Fellytones and Fuzzy Slippers: A Love Story
by The Treacle Tart
Summary: *Ch. 14 uploaded* What will a wizard do for love? Apparently humiliate himself - daily. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione alone in the country. Who thought this was a good idea? Ch. 14 - Now What? Please R&R. *COMPLETE*
1. Can You Be Convicted Of Murder By Fork?

**I am slowly replacing the first chapters of this fic as they were not betaed and it showed.**

**Diana, or Darth Beta as I have dubbed her, is kindly assisting me.**

  


**DISCLAIMER:  Anything you recognized belongs to JK (I'll get book five out when I'm good and ready) Rowling.  I do own the aged computer this was written on.  I would be more than willing to make a trade….******

I am giving this fic a rating of R for later chapters.  R for **restricted, **r**esponsible for your actions and **r**ead something else if you are not mature enough to handle adult themes.  You should know better anyway.**

**Fellytones**** and Fuzzy Slippers: A Love Story**

**CHAPTER ONE – Can You Be Convicted Of Murder By Fork?**

'They can't possibly be real.'

Hermione Granger had on her best, "My-you-are-so-very-interesting," face as she quietly listened to the blonde sitting across from her. Her table mate's inane story became a faint buzzing in Hermione's ears as she studied the incalculable proportions on display.  'It's a crime against nature, it is. It's not within the realm of physics that a body as petite as that could support breasts of that magnitude. How can her waist be that slender? Does she even have a ribcage? And those eyes, really.  That shade of blue exists no where else in the known universe.  She has to be veela; she has to be.  It was a sin against womanhood for her not be.' 

Hermione paused to relay a "You don't say," and an "Oh, that's so funny," in the appropriate areas before continuing her mental lynching of the woman before her.  'Does she ever shut up?  Doesn't she need to breathe?'  Hermione looked down at her chest again, 'I suppose those things can hold a lot in reserve,' she smirked secretly in her thoughts.  She paused to look at Ron who was staring at his latest girlfriend in awe and wonderment. He threw back his head in laughter at her relentless banter and flashed that wicked smile of his.  'Look at the grinning idiot,' she thought. 'You can sure pick a winner, can't you, Ron?   She was, after all, just like the others - beautiful and stupid.  She's more than beautiful though, isn't she… Heck, even I want her.'  Hermione shook her head at this last thought.  As much as she hated to admit it, Maria Elena was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. And Ron, her Ron, was madly in love with her.

It was four years since they finished Hogwarts.  Four years since the end of Voldemort and his tyranny.  Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter were instrumental in his defeat.  In fact, so much of their lives then was focused on saving the wizarding world from his clutches that they had little time for anything else, including each other.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she always thought she and Ron would end up together.  After the war she needed some time alone, so she went away to the Aurellia Academy in France to finish her education and get her degree.  She kept in touch with everyone as best she could through the owl post but had little time for visits as she was intent upon receiving her doctorate in as little time as possible.  Within three years she had not only became Dr. Hermione Granger, Fellow in Advanced Arithmancy, but she had embarked upon a successful career encoding and decoding equations for the Ministry of Magic, and she was the youngest witch in history to do so.  She didn't date much, again because she had always assumed she and Ron would be together.  It never dawned on her that he had other plans.  It never dawned on her that he did not feel the same way.  

Truth be told they never really discussed it.  She never mentioned how she felt.  She had assumed he always knew.  It was those assumptions that brought her here to meet Ron's fourth girlfriend this year at a restaurant near her flat in London with Harry in tow.  When Ron broke up with, "Merlin help me--Amber," as Hermione would refer to her, she had thought they might finally get their chance.  When Ron called her to go out to lunch, she was thrilled only to have her hopes squashed, as she saw not only Harry seated at the table, but a supermodel unceremoniously attached to Ron's arms.  The last hour was spent with Maria Elena, who was painfully full after three bits of her salad, carefully explaining why pink is her favorite color and how she will only go to Gustav to do her hair after Renaldo almost convinced her to go with platinum blonde as opposed to her natural golden highlights.  'Natural my arse,' Hermione thought while biting down hard on her fork. 'Let's face it, girly.  I don't think anything on that body would decompose if it were buried for a hundred years.'  Oddly enough, Hermione liked the sound of that.  She smiled until she looked at Ron.  He was mesmerized by the anorexic Barbie doll with the gland problem, and Hermione did all she could to keep her lunch down.  

Harry watched her with sympathy wondering how she managed not to break her teeth as she chewed her food with such intensity, as if she were biting down on steel and crushing it with her incisors.  She seemed to be in pain after every bite of her pasta.  He understood, probably more than Hermione would have wanted him to.  He knew about how these two felt about each other probably even before they did.  Neither would ever admit to anything out loud and though he wanted that when they were younger; now, it just made him sad. 

Remembering those days was always tough for Harry for so many reasons.  As much as tried he to deny it, he needed his friends to be there for him - his survival depended upon it. He hated the idea that they liked each other in a way that would exclude him. Nothing terrified him more than the thought of being alone.  Now as an adult, he realized how selfish that was.  He also felt a little guilty knowing he might have helped them, but didn't.  Now he watched as one best friend dated one girl after the other looking for something he would never find, while the other wouldn't look anywhere at all, hoping for something she might never get.  These two were meant for each other; they just didn't know it yet.

Maria Elena announce she needed to use the "little girl's room;" she wiggled her nose at Ron and giggled before she left.   He was beaming.

Finally prying his eyes from the retreating form of his beloved, he turned to his best friends with a look of rapture on his face. "Isn't she amazing?"

"She's something."  Hermione tried to sound complimentary, but it came out strangled, as if she was fighting incontinence.

"She's quite a charmer."  Harry's attempt at praise

"We met at the Ministry.  She is a friend of Seamus's girlfriend.  He introduced us, and we hit it off right away.  I owe him big time."

"So do I," Hermione muttered under her breath.   She was just beginning to enjoy the quiet left in the wake of Hurricane Hooters when the pouty-lipped she-devil suddenly returned, holding a portable phone.  'Does she even know she was a witch?'  

"Ronny, I have to run. I just got a call from the office, and they need me to get back.  Walk me out." The words held the implication that he would be duly rewarded for his efforts.  She turned to his friends and said in a voice like melting butter, eyelashes fluttering at the speed of light, "It was wonderful meeting you. Harry.  You too….Hermania, was it?"  She gave them both a toothy grin.

Hermione matched her pearly white for pearly white. "Hermione, actually.  Sorry you have to rush off.  Hope to see you again soon," she said sweetly. 'Preferably impaled on something jagged and rusty,' she added mentally.

Ron escorted her to the door.  Hermione returned to her pasta, stabbing several pieces with her fork of death and shoveling them in her mouth as she chewed with a vengeance.  Harry looked at her and shook his head.

"What are you going on about?"  She was not in the mood for his opinions or his head shaking.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?"

She feigned ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed in frustration. "This has been going on for years.  I know how you feel about him. Why don't you just admit it….to him and yourself?"

"There is nothing to admit."  Her shoulders slumped in resignation. She put down her fork, brought her hand up to her temples and started to rub in small circles. "Anyway, if you're implying what I think you're implying, then I think we can both agree it would come to nothing.  It is obvious what he wants, and I can assure you it is not me." Picking up her fork again, she started to play with her food, hoping Harry would get the hint.

"How do you know?"  Well, so much for that.  "Neither one of you will talk about it." 

"Just let it go, Harry."  In truth, she did not want him to let it go, but his insisting only caused her more hurt.  Hermione knew all too well that she was not like the women Ron chose to date.  She was not beautiful; she was not sexy; she was not mindless.  Okay,  maybe that last part was undeserved.  Even Marie Elena had a good job at a publisher and was interesting in her own way.  Hermione knew that to get what she wanted she would have to change who she was, and she wasn't sure if it was something she could do.  Deciding she was not going to be the only one dwelling in self pity this afternoon, she turned her attention back to the friend sitting across from her.

"You know, you're not the one to talk about admitting feelings."

Harry looked up sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means in three months we will both be attending a wedding that shouldn't be happening." 

This hit a little too close to home.  It was Harry's turn to sigh, slump his shoulders, and rub small circles at his temples.  As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.  

Harry spent so much time and energy trying to forget his battles with The Dark One, that he allowed something special slip through his fingers. The year following the final battle was spent doing nothing, wondering what there was to his life now that the one thing that had consumed him was gone. He was numb for so long that it was hard to begin life again.  It was only recently that he finished his degree in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts and had some aim in life.  When he finally woke up from the haze, he found that Ginny Weasley was engaged to Colin Creevey.  It was only when Ron told him of the upcoming nuptials that it really hit him.  Ginny Weasley, the girl who would giggle whenever he entered to room; Ginny Weasley, his shadow for nearly all his years at Hogwarts; Ginny Weasley, the shy red head who would blush frantically at the mere mention of his name, had moved on.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" 

Hermione had to agree.  "How did we get to this point, Harry?  How did we manage to screw things up so badly?"

At this Ron returned to the table, his lips swollen, hair disheveled.

"Sorry that took so long," he said breathlessly.  Hermione and Harry exchanged a knowing glance.  Both doubted he was _that sorry. _

"Okay, so the truth now.  What do you really think?"  He seemed nervous as he waited for the reply.

Hermione hoped Harry would answer first, but they both knew whose opinion Ron was looking for. "Are you happy?"  she asked.  'Please say no,' she thought.

"Absolutely," was the response.

"That is all that matters then, isn't it."  He furrowed his brow and she relented. "She is lovely."

That was what he seemed to be waiting for, and he picked up his previously abandoned sandwich and started to eat.

Hermione suddenly lost her appetite.

  



	2. Why Brandy and Fuzzy Slippers Should Nev...

**CHAPTER TWO – Why Brandy And Fuzzy Blue Slippers Should Never Mix.**

Later that night, Dr. Hermione Granger, Fellow in Advanced Arithmancy, found herself alone in her flat when she heard a familiar popping noise. 

Harry Potter, worried about his friend, decided to apparate to her home only to find the aforementioned friend sitting on the floor, wearing fuzzy blue slippers, holding a battered teddy bear while looking at old pictures. She was apparently quite – oh, what's the right word? Smashed?  Yes, smashed. 

"What are you doing?" His tone revealed that he was not too surprised at the sight that welcomed him.

"Waxing nostalgic.  Where did you come from?"  She paused to focus on him.  "And why are there two of you?" Hermione tried in vain to stand up.

Though the sight of an inebriated Hermione trying to steady herself was incredibly entertaining, he moved to help her.  "I wanted to see if you were all right.  I knew you would not be at your best but I did not expect to find this wretched lump on the floor, piss drunk.  By the way, you look like crap."

She shook off his attempts at aiding her, a little too vigorously in fact, as she found herself back on the floor.  Undaunted, she responded, "Thank you for your fine assessment of the situation.  I will file your report under 'Shit I Already Knew' and will bring it up before committee.  As they are quite busy, let me give you an interim answer until they can reply: Fuck Off."  She picked up her glass, toasted him, and attempted to drink. She ended up spilling most of the contents down the front of her blouse.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake get up."  He attempted to pick her up again, only to find that for some reason she no longer had bones in her body as she collapsed onto the floor.  In a final move of desperation Harry picked her up in his arms and carried her into to the bedroom.

"What the hell are you drinking?"  The stench burned his nose hair as he breathed it in.

"Butter beer."

"Butter beer has no alcohol."

"It can, when you mix it with half a bottle of vodka."

"I see."

"And chase it with a few shots of tequila."

"Oh, well, of course."

"And a bit of brandy.  It was the brandy that started it all you know.  Damn brandy."

"I don't want to hear any more."

Carefully stepping over the piles of books and papers on her floor, he found his way to her bed and dropped her.

"Umfff…That was gentle."

"Sorry, but I can't decide if I feel sorry for you or if I'm angry with you.  Angry won out at the last minute."

Trying to retain some dignity, Hermione began to straighten out her clothes.  "I don't need your sympathy. And you can take your anger and shove it.  I don't need that either."

"You are going to need something soon."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You just turned a particularly nasty shade of green, and I think that accursed brandy is planning to make another appearance."

"Oh bloody hell," she erped as she ran to the bathroom, almost tripping on her fuzzy blue slippers.  

She emerged several minutes later, considerably less green and amazingly more red.

"I feel like such an ass."

"You should." He paused briefly as she placed her still spinning head on his shoulder.  

"Next time you plan on getting toasted, give me a call."

She huffed, "You think you could stop me?"

"No…I'll join you."  Gently, he sat down on her bed next to her. Without a word he fell back, staring up at the ceiling as he continued to talk.  "I think I'm losing my mind."

"Join the club," she muttered as she started to undress.

Her complete disregard for his presence started to anger him. "How about a bit of modesty?  I am a guy you know."

"Oh, loosen up.  I know you are a guy and I also know that I might as well be one, for all you know," she replied without once stopping her stripping.

Now he was irate. "What makes you think I won't come on to you now?  I could, you know.  You're in no position to stop me.  You probably wouldn't even remember tomorrow."

"Spare me your rush of testosterone. One (she held up a shaky finger), we are best friends and have been for ages." 

"Two (she added a shaky finger to the first), you are not the least bit attracted to me.  You love Ginny."  She pointed the shaky fingers at Harry.  

"Three (fingers now poked him in the chest), I could hex you into eternity in this state or any other." 

"Four (fingers now rubbing mindlessly over her face as she tried to steady herself), did I mention you love Ginny? Wait….what? Oh…four….."  Fingers, what fingers, "No, five -- where were we? Oh hell, get out so I can pass out like a normal drunk."  With this, she fell to the bed, half undressed and totally unconscious.  

With a sigh Harry finished undressing her and tucked her into bed.  He proceeded to clean up her apartment.  He was not going to get any sleep tonight anyway, and she really shouldn't be alone.  Dr. Hermione Granger, Fellow in Advanced Arithmancy, was not as strong as she would like to think.  And Harry Potter, Hero of the Wizarding World, Boy Who Lived Despite Maniac Overlords Out For His Blood, and Good Guy Extraordinaire, wasn't any stronger for that matter. When he was done, he pulled up a chair next to his friend.  He found her like this every time they met one of Ron's new girlfriends.  What she didn't know was that for the years she was away at the University, Ron didn't date at all.  There were offers - they both had more than their share of offers - but neither took them up.  It wasn't until she come back home that Ron decided it was time to move on.

"Idiots.  Both of them, " he thought angrily.  "Idiots in love."  He sighed.  There had to be some way of getting them to see how they felt about one another before it was too late.  Harry knew good and well about too late.  He would have to live with his mistakes, but he wouldn't let them make them as well. 

  
  



	3. Brides, Birds and Baiting

  


**CHAPTER THREE – Brides, Birds and Baiting **

He was nervous.

That fact, in and of itself, made him feel stupid.  After all he had faced, after all he had done, the mere anticipation of looking at Ginny Weasley made him sweat.  A lot. 

Remembering the reason for his visit, he steeled himself.  It had to be done.

His resolve wavered, however, when she opened the door and he realized how much he hated Ron and Hermione at that very moment.  If not for their stubbornness, he would not have to be here, face to face with regret and missed opportunities.  In a delicate white dress, his angel stood before him.  Red hair falling in soft curls down her back, freckles dappled along the ridge of her nose like kisses from the sun.  And that smile.  That wicked Weasley smile.  Hermione was not immune to it and apparently, neither was Harry.

"Hi Ginny." Words came out tinged with melancholy.

"Harry!" She threw her arms around his neck and let out a laugh.  "How are you?  I wasn't expecting you today.  Come in, come in, come in.  Have a seat.  Can I get you some tea?  You like blackberry, right?  I'll be right back."

The tornado that was Ginny Weasley flew in the kitchen and flew back next to Harry in what seemed like seconds.

Harry was wondering if he would be allowed to speak yet.

"I have just been making last minute plans for the wedding."  Apparently not.

"I had no idea how much work this would entail.  Did you?  Well, that was silly, how could you, being single.  Oh, sorry. That was stupid of me.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, being single,  that is.  It's wonderful.  Not wonderful, like, I wish I was unattached.  I mean wonderful for you."

"Ginny….."

"Colin has been such a dear, trying to help and all but I find men really just aren't good with these things and besides I think that he is really just trying to make a good impression.  I really don't think he cares very much about the during as much as the after."

"Ginny….."

"Not that you are interested in all that..."

"GINNY!"

Realization dawned on her face, followed by the infamous Weasley blush.

"Oh Harry, I am so sorry.  I have been a wreck lately."  As if everything came to a head at that very moment, Ginny collapsed on the couch next to Harry.

Repressing every instinct that shouted for him to put his arms around her, he spoke, "Is everything all right?"

She sat up startled. "Yes, of course.  Why wouldn't it be?  What have you heard?"

In an attempt to keep the conversation down to the legal speed limit, Harry jumped in.  "I haven't heard anything.  You just seem very tired and very…..anxious."

She relaxed slightly. "I guess I am.  A girl only gets married once, right? Well, once for the first time anyway, and I want this to be perfect.  It's really a lot of work."

"You're doing it all alone?"

She nodded wearily.  "Mostly.  Mum has tried to help, but we seem to get into disagreements all the time.  Angelina and Katie have also tried but dealing with the likes of Fred and George is already too much for anyone to bear.  Penny is pregnant and about to burst, so Percy won't even let her out of the house.  And, well, Hermione is just no good at this kind of stuff.  Though, don't tell her that.  She'll probably try to prove me wrong by sending me more books on the subject, and I haven't had time to go through the seven she already sent over."

Hermione…. "That's why I came over…..to talk to you about Hermione."

"Is she all right?"

"Well, I'm not really sure.  Ginny, I need your help with something."  

He stared at her for a moment.  Was he out of his mind?  Who was he to interfere with the lives of others?  They were adults, after all. And what was the real purpose of going to Ginny Weasley, of all people, to help him? Ginny Weasley, indeed.  Come to think of it -- who better?

A deep breath.  Here goes nothing.

"I am in desperate need of a way to make Hermione and Ron realize that they are meant to be together.  It's been four years of waiting for them to wake up and it's not happening.  In the meanwhile Hermione just waits for something to pop out at her from whatever book she is either reading or writing, and Ron goes out with the most un-Hermione-like girls he can find, trying to get over something that never was.  It was fine while we were in school.  We were all too preoccupied with not dying to worry about dating.  And yes, I will admit that I did nothing to foster any kind of relationship.  It was complete selfishness on my part, but I need to fix it now or I will watch the two most important people in my life lose a great chance at happiness, and damn it, they deserve that.  We all deserve that."  Apparently, Ginny's case of 'runaway mouth' was contagious.

To say that Ginny was surprised would be an understatement-- sort of like saying Voldemort had some intimacy issues , or Remus Lupin got a little testy once a month. She was not surprised at what he was saying - Ron and Hermione belonged together.  Any idiot with half a brain cell could see how they felt about each other.  No, what surprised her was who was saying it and the genuine passion with which he was saying it. He had not had a flicker of any emotion since the 'Final Battle' many thought he never would again. Today, she saw a glimmer of the boy she thought she would never see again, one she missed very much.

Something must have happened.  "What's going on?"

"Hermione met Marie Elena."

"Oh….."

A small smile found its way to Harry' mouth. "Yeah, I know.  She fell to pieces, again.  And I picked her up and put her back together, again.  It's killing her.  No one should be that unhappy."

"Did she ask you to help her?"

"No, she wouldn't do that, but I have to."  He saw the look of hesitation in Ginny's eyes.  "You didn't see her, Ginny.  She's miserable.  One way or another, I have to make them admit their feelings.  They have to give it a chance.  If it doesn't work out at least then they can move on."

Whatever it was that sprung Harry into action was obviously important enough to him to make him seek her out, and Ginny would be damned if she passed up the opportunity to help him.  For the sake of her brother, as well as her Maid of Honor, and for the sake of the boy whose green eyes had not been so bright for a long, long time. "Do you have a plan?"

"I was hoping you could help me come up with one since you are the only one who it seems can make a relationship work."  He almost choked on the words.

Suddenly, she could not bear to look into those green eyes.  "Yes….I …suppose….I suppose we could come up with something together."

Harry felt relief at her words.  Relief?  No, that was not right.  He was feeling something else, but he could not think of that right now.  "I've been thinking we need to get them alone.  Preferably someplace romantic.  If we can get them out of here and in a place where they would have to spend time together things might work themselves out.  Maybe we could just steer them in the right direction."

Ginny thought in silence for a moment. "I know just the place. Dad's cousin has a place in the country.   Charlie and Amalia honeymooned there for a bit before going back to Romania.  It was private and beautiful.  Charlie said he thought there was a lake nearby.  He wasn't sure because they never really did venture outside of the cottage.  I'll see when we can use it."

"Perfect.  Now for the hard part.  How do we get them up there?"

The words were still lingering in the air when they heard the sound of pecking at the window.

"It's Ansel, Colin's owl."

"Probably a love note."  Harry said aloud, while he briefly wondered what the penalty was for killing an owl.  Well, at least plucking it bald.

Ginny pulled the note out of the bird's talon and read it.  She stood silently for a while, reading and rereading the note.  Then, without warning, she started to laugh.  A soft chuckle at first, it grew into a hearty chortle which, in turn, wheel barreled  straight into an all-out guffaw. She could hardly catch her breath as she clutched her sides.

Harry couldn't help but smile; she seemed so amused by the note.  "What does it say?"

She tried to speak but as soon as she got her bearings, she started to laugh all over again. 

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Tears streamed down her face.   Harry was beginning to worry.  Her eyes were wild, and her manner, disconcerting.  She looked like she was going mad.  He knew that look all to well.  He and Hermione had been friends for over eleven years, after all.

Finally able to get control of herself, Ginny spoke.   "It's from Colin.  He's called off the wedding."

Harry was dumbfounded.  She was joking.  She had to be joking. Please, don't let her be joking.  "You're joking."

"No. The bastard has run off with Amanda Lyncase, a girl from our year.  She worked with Colin the _Daily Prophet_, and they became friends.  Well, that's an understatement if I ever heard one."  The laughing fit began again.

"But….but… but I don't understand.  Why are you laughing?"

Pausing to wipe a tear from her eyes, she looked right into his eyes, "Oh Harry, you don't understand.  I am free. I am finally free."

When this did not illuminate Harry as she hoped it would, she continued.  "We dated for so long people expected us to marry.  I don't think either one of us really loved each other enough for a lifetime commitment, but it was what we thought we were supposed to do.  I threw myself into the wedding plans hoping to get excited about the whole thing, but it wasn't working.  I didn't have the heart to break it off with Colin.  I thought he would be crushed.  So much for female intuition."

"So you're happy it's off?"

"Deliriously happy, yes."

Harry stopped and then, started again.  "No.  No, you're not."  A plan formed in his head.

"Pardon?" 

"No, you're not happy.  You're miserable."

"Who are you talking to?" Ginny turned around half expecting to see someone else standing behind her.  

Harry gave a mischievous grin.  "You are inconsolably miserable and you want to go away for a few days.  Out to the country.  And you need your good friends and your loving brother to go with you."

  



	4. The Plot Sickens

**CHAPTER FOUR – The Plot Sickens**

Harry stood in the kitchen of a small cottage in the Welsh countryside unpacking groceries and listening to Ginny Weasley deliver what could only be called an Oscar-worthy performance.

Seated on the couch next to a concerned Hermione on her left and an irate Ron on her right, Ginny spun a yarn of devotion and betrayal, of a past ignored and a future destroyed, of dreams turned into nightmares.  'My God, are those real tears ? She's bloody brilliant.'  Harry had found an all-new respect for the youngest Weasley.

Just as Harry predicted, Hermione was all too happy to take time from her job to help console Ginny.  Knowing a bit about love, or the loss of love to be more precise, Hermione felt it her duty to comfort the girl who had over the years become her closest female friend.  The fact that she would have Ron alone for a couple of weeks did not enter the picture at all.  Not once.  Well….maybe once…or twice…a day.  

Anyway, that wasn't important to Hermione at the moment…although Ron did smell amazing.  What the hell was he wearing any way? It smelled so rugged and woodsy….  

'Focus, Hermione. Focus. Remember Ginny's in pain.'

As Hermione broke from her reverie, she placed a concerned hand on Ginny's shoulder.  But try as she might she could not help but stare at Ron.  Though he always tall, he used to be thin, lanky almost. Ron's body decided to fill out marvelously over the last few years; a fact that was a source of great joy and sorrow for one Hermione Granger.  She had become quite an admirer of the chiseled features and the broad shoulders and the way his waist narrowed just slightly into his hip over what she could only imagine as powerful thighs…..

'Focus, Hermione. Focus.'

She kept trying to remind herself that she was here for Ginny and not to gawk at Ron. Though she couldn't help but notice that despite his decidedly mature physique, he still had that boyish face.  Shamelessly, he ran this hand through his hair, hair that was just a little too long over his eyes and he flashed that smile that revealed the dimple on his cheek that was otherwise hidden.  That smile…that damn smile…the smile that haunted her for years.  That mocked her in her dreams……

'Dammit!  Focus!'

"Ginny," she had to interrupt Ginny's diatribe if she was ever going to get out of this Ron- induced coma that was stealing her senses. "Ginny," she continued, "He was not worthy of you.  He obviously wasn't as devoted to you as he should have been, and it's better to know that now rather than ten years and three kids into a marriage that was not meant to be." A pause, a deep breath, and a hard swallow.  "Take this time to start fresh… to get over him…to… to cast that other woman aside and remember that it's his loss and not yours."  Her voice was rising in steady decibels.  "That he chose to ignore the person you are, the person that could have been the best thing that ever happened to him and…" -now she was bordering on shouting - "and went for a tramp with a bad dye job and fake finger nails, which really isn't a surprise because I doubt anything on her is real in the first place… and…and furthermore…"

"Hermione."  Ginny had to put a stop to this before Harry's great plan went up in smoke.  "Hermione, stop.  You're right.  I know you're right.  Thank you …for…your…your fervor.  I knew having you both here would be just what I needed.  I…I'm really feeling a lot better just being here with my friends.  I think I'll go help Harry in the kitchen."

Ron and Hermione watched Ginny get up and leave.  She seemed calmer than when they first arrived, but they both could sense that she was holding something back.  Something was not right.  Ron turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, how did you know so much about the girl Colin ran off with?  Ginny didn't mention any of that stuff to me."

"Call it a hunch."  She replied, unable to conceal the bitterness of her tone.

"You know what I think?"

"That Oliver Wood should quit the Wellington Warlocks and join the Chudley Cannons before the start of the next season?"

"Well of course, but that's just common sense, really…  No, about what's going on here."

"What is going on here, Ron, is that Ginny has had her heart torn from her chest, stomped on, and crushed to a fine powder.  Or did I miss a memo somewhere?" 

"Don't you think it's odd that Ginny asked us here, and Harry as well.  I mean, you are her best girl friend and I am her favorite brother. (Hermione rolled her eyes) But, Harry?  As far as I know, they have never spent any real time alone together.  Odd, don't you think?"

"She invited me for comfort.  She invited you to keep you from hunting Colin down and pummeling him in to a bloody pulp, though I admit I like the sound of that.   She probably invited Harry along in case you and I got on each other's nerves.  Someone has to be the peace keeper."

"First of all, George and Fred are going to take care of Colin.  And frankly, even I felt sorry for the guy after I saw what they were planning.  I had no idea Taupin feathers could be used for that… Secondly, we are not children. We don't need a keeper."

"I choose not to comment on who is and who is not a child.  Suffice it to say, I did notice you own a pair of 'Martin the Mad Muggle' pajamas.  That would be the 'Martin the Mad Muggle' that's on children's comic books? Anyway, none of that matters.  I don't think Ginny thought of anything more than being surrounded by her friends at this time.  We need to take her out, have some fun, and help her forget Colin… And what, exactly, are they using Taupin feathers for?"

"Nothing I care to discuss with you as it involves a certain part of a man's anatomy and its various functions. But that's beside the point. I was discussing Ginny.  I found the best way to get over an old love is to find a new love…And it is not a comic book; it is a graphic novel."

"It's a what?"

Choosing to ignore the comment, Ron continued.

"Don't you think Harry and Ginny are perfect for one another?  I mean, it is so obvious that they are attracted to each other."

Hermione was shocked to hear those words coming from Ron, as the bugging eyes and gaping mouth would attest.

"Didn't you tell Harry back in school if he so much as looked at your sister's exposed ankle, you would make him a candidate for the Vienna's Boys Choir?"

"Well, probably not, since I have no idea what the Vienna's Boys Choir is."

"Ron, don't make me curse you.  I can, you know.  I'm quite good at it."

"You need not remind me of your skills as a witch, Hermione.  I am more than well acquainted with your abilities.  First hand, actually.  Anyway, the things we discussed as children do not translate now.  We are adults and to be truthful, I think Harry has been kind of lonely lately.  Haven't you noticed how sad he seems all the time?  He hasn't been himself for years, and I think it's time we did something about it.  We are his best friends, after all.  And I wouldn't mind if he and Ginny hit it off.  Better him than Colin.  I think they are well suited for one another.  They may just need a push."

"Are you telling me that you want to set Harry up with Ginny?"

"I think so."

Hermione stared at him for a moment.  He was serious.  Since when did Ron Weasley notice anything, especially others' emotions?  Maybe she didn't give him enough credit.  Maybe he did notice things.  Maybe he wasn't as blind as she thought.  Maybe that wasn't the line of thought she wanted to follow just now.  After all, it was hoping he was blind to what was in front of him that….that… 'Oh, not now, Hermione!'

With a sigh, she had to agree.  "How do you propose we accomplish this?"

"Hermione, apparently being the brightest thing to come out of Hogwarts in the last century doesn't keep you from being dim about some things, does it?"

Smoke started to pour from her ears, or at least that's how it felt.  "Who are you calling dim, you obnoxious…."

"Hermione, we are in the middle of the countryside in a cabin by a lake for two weeks.  Can you think of a more romantic setting?  I'm sure if we work on it we could come up with something."

"You mean it.  You really are serious."

He looked at her, his eyes full of determination.  "Of course.  Can you think of a better thing to be serious about?"

Hermione had no answer.

  



	5. Hold The Fellytone

**CHAPTER FIVE – Hold The Fellytone**

It seemed like such a good idea when he'd thought of it.  A day at the lake. Ron out in the sun. Hermione in a bathing suit. What could be better? He thought himself brilliant when Hermione came down the stairs in a bikini.  Little minx that she was, she was planning for this.  This was going to be easier than he thought if the look on Ron's face was any indication.  Yes, he was feeling really full of himself.  That is, until Ginny came down the stairs.

He knew she was girl.  A girl in a strictly anatomical sense anyway, as she had all the required parts that made her female. He realized with a flush that he never studied that anatomy as closely as he should have.  Ginny's attire made Hermione's look positively Victorian by contrast.  

Trying to hide the small grin that was playing on his lips, he paused suddenly when he realized that she actually planned on wearing that thing in public…where there were other people.  'Oh hell, no.'

"What are you wearing?" Harry said shakily.

Ginny was visibly taken aback by the comment.  "A bathing suit, same as you."

"Oh no…. no…..not quite the same as me."

"Well of course, not exactly the same. You would look silly in a bikini and frankly, I don't think I would look right in a pair of trunks with snitches all over them."

Harry had to take a few breaths to steady himself at the image of Ginny in a pair of swimming shorts and nothing else.  Once steady, he looked at Ginny's apparel again.  Where did all those curves come from?  She did look great, and others were going to see that.  'Oh. Hell. No.'

"Don't you think that is a bit much, or should I say, not quite enough."  Oh suave, Potter.  Think fast! "Ron is going to have a conniption when he sees you in that thing.  You know how he is, and we want him concentrating on _other __things."_

"First of all, Hermione's suit is much more revealing than mine…"

The words "You have more to reveal than Hermione," almost ran out of his mouth….almost.

"…so I doubt we need to be worrying about Ron.  And secondly, there's nothing wrong with this suit.  I like it."

"It's not the suit." - suit, indeed - more like string.  Skimpy string at that.  Skimpy, frayed string, ready to burst…. "The suit is fine.  I mean, I think it's fine, but you know Ron."  She seemed unconvinced.  "All I'm saying is that Ron is going to take one look at you and call the whole day off. Maybe you should get a T-shirt." Or a sweater…..and some pants, baggy ones.  And a scarf.

Just as he finished his plea, Ron walked in. "What is taking you so long?  We're losing daylight.  Nice outfit Gin, you look good.  Are you two ready to go yet? Where's Hermione?"

As he left the room Ginny turned to Harry with a smirk and stated, "Well, as that seems to be settled, I'll go see about lunch."

She walked passed him in a huff, and he was left staring after her.  Staring at the way her hips moved as she walked.  Sauntered,  really.  Sauntering down to the lake…the lake with people…male people… 'OH! HELL! NO!'

He sprinted after Ron.

"Ron." No answer

"Ron."  Still no answer.

"RON!"

"What are you yelling about?"

He suddenly felt very, very stupid.  "I wasn't yelling."

"Are you sure about that, mate?" 

"Look, that's not the point.  You aren't seriously going to let Ginny walk out of this house like that are you?"

Ron beamed.  Oh, this was going to be good.  "Like what?" he said, feigning innocence.

"Ron, come on.  Didn't you see what she was wearing."

"Yeah, a bathing suit.  Like you and me."

"Oh no…no…not quite like you and me."

"Well, no, not quite. I mean, can you imagine her in trunks with snitches all over them?"

Let's not go there, shall we?  "Look, all I'm saying is that there are going to be a lot of people down there and someone might look at her and get the wrong idea.  They might think she was a certain kind of girl, and who knows where that could lead."

"Harry, look. There is nothing wrong with the way she looks.  And anyway, it might be good to have people look at her.  After what Colin did maybe having someone pay some attention to her would make her feel good.  You know how girls are.  A guy dumps her for another girl and she starts to wonder why, what was wrong with her.  She's probably feeling horrible about herself."

"Oh….."  Yes, he felt very, very stupid. "You're right…of course….I'd better get my stuff ready."

As Harry was leaving the room Ron grinned from ear to ear.  'Oh this is going to be too easy.'

__________________________________________________________________________________

The lake was beautiful, almost enchanted, really. The bright sunlight shimmered off the soft water top like diamonds; the trees hung low over the shore as if they were hiding a very private secret from the rest of the world.  The group went about finding a quiet alcove that provided shade for those who wished it. While setting up their blanket, they couldn't help but be swept up in their surroundings; cloudless skies and swaying trees and delicate breezes.  They had found a perfect spot where, much to Harry joy, there were very few other people.

Hermione did not hesitate in going into the water.  Since childhood, she had loved to swim. She used to imagine she was a mermaid, which was a lot nicer of a fantasy before you know that there really were such creatures and that they were not always the nicest of beings.  She called Ginny in and soon, they were splashing and laughing.  Giggling, really.  Their joy echoed through the trees and filled the air.

On the lake side, Harry and Ron watched the girls in silent appreciation.  Neither really wanted to talk and neither really wanted to admit why.  Ron was finally roused when he heard Harry's quick intake of breath.  The girls started to walk back to the blanket.  Drenched bathing suits clinging to their frames, droplets of water tauntingly sliding down their bodies, wet hair framing their faces.  Against the setting of a lake glistening with sun drops, and the seclusion of tall trees, Ron never thought Ginny looked more beautiful.  And Hermione too, of course.  She looked….she looked….

Suddenly, the sound of foreign voices called their attention.  A group of people started to set up camp nearby.  Much to Harry's dismay they consisted mostly of males. And these males were whistling, whistling at Hermione and Ginny.  And for their part, the girls did not seem too disturbed by this.

Smiling coyly, they waved at their admirers who waved back feverishly.  They giggled until they reached the blanket.  That giggling, which moments ago was soft music to Harry's ears, was now like the raking of nails across a black board.   

"Why are you guys just sitting here for?  The water is amazing. You really should go in."  Ginny reached for a towel and started to dry off.

"It looked like fun."  Harry replied while eyeing the group of boorish intruders, who were still looking over. 

"It was.  I haven't been to a lake since I was a child.  How about you?"

Harry scoffed. "Do you think the Durlseys would have taken me anywhere?"  A sneer on his lips, he was left wondering where his wand was and why the hell he left it behind.   

"Well you're here now.  Why you don't go in?"

"I haven't gone in the water since the Triwizard Tournament when I had to get Ron.  I never was able to get the image of Ron and Hermione unconscious under water out of my head."  He was too distracted by one of the degenerate trespassers making rude gestures with his hands to realize what he just admitted to Ginny.  

"Really?"  Everyone seemed to have spoken at once.

Suddenly, he realized what he said "Well.....yeah…I mean…" He sighed. "I am not terribly comfortable in the water….outside of a bathtub, anyway."

Ginny was moved by his small admission and gave him a smile to let him know that.  She reached over and took his hand.  "Harry, there are plenty of things in this world to be afraid of.  This is not one of them.  Come on."

Harry wanted to protest, he really did.  But that small hand seemed to fit so perfectly in his, and he did not have the heart to let it go.  He kept trying to remind himself that Ginny was over him, that the crush of a schoolgirl was a faint, if not sweet, memory. But for now, he was allowing himself to be led to the waters of a lake by that memory and happy to do so.

Hermione sat down next to Ron and smiled.  "This is going to be easy.  Did you see the way he looked at her?"

Ron nodded his head. "And you doubted me."

"I didn't realize you were such an expert in matters of the heart."

"I'm not an expert."  He suddenly frowned.  "I just know when two people are meant to be together."

Those words hit Hermione right in the gut.  'Sure, you know when people should be together and when they should not.'  She felt her throat close and folded her arms across her chest suddenly feeling very exposed.

Ron, not noticing Hermione's reaction to his words, kept talking.  "You should have seen the look on his face when those guys were whistling at you.  I thought he was going to explode."

Hermione looked over at the aforementioned group--about six guys and two girls.  Not a bad ratio, all things being equal.  A few of those guys looked quite…. intriguing.  "Really?  Maybe I should take Ginny over there to talk to them."

Hold the fellytone! "What did you say?"  He turned to watch her eyeing the aforementioned, aforementioned group appreciatively. 

"They're a good looking lot.  Maybe if Harry sees them talking her, he'll realize he needs to make a move soon.  You said yourself he looked jealous."

Ron was not pleased at where she was focusing her attentions.  "You would take her there?"

"Well of course.  I don't think she would go alone."

"Would you dress first?"

Now that got her attention. "Why?  It was the outfits that got their attention not our O.W.L. scores."

"Yeah, but…. that may not be such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that being dressed like that, someone might look at you and get the wrong idea.  They might think you were a certain kind of girl, and who knows where that could lead."

What the…"Me?"

"Yes, you!" 

"I thought we were talking about Ginny."

He shifted. "We were."

"What are you going on about?"

"Nothing…Look, Ginny and Harry seem to be having a good time. Let's not interrupt them.  We'll be here for a couple of weeks; I'm sure we'll run into them (Ron gives his best Snape-like death glare here) again should we need to utilize your strategy.  Right now, things are going fine just as they are."

Hermione got the idea that that was the end of the discussion.  They sat next to each other watching Ginny and Harry wade in the water up to their knees.  After about five minutes Ron had had enough.  "Time to liven things up a bit."  He grabbed Hermione's hand and together they ran down to their friends.  With no warning Ron tackled Harry and threw him into water.  

"Ron!"  Ginny was irate.  "He needs to take things slowly."

"Ginny dear, sometimes you just have to say 'what the hell.' " With that, he picked up his sister and tossed her on top of Harry.  Ginny and Harry took one look at each other and nodded.  They jumped up and ran toward Ron; and together they threw him down, where Ginny preceded to sit on him to keep him from getting up.   In their struggles they almost failed to notice Hermione slowly slinking away.  

Almost.  

They all froze and looked up at the shore to where she stood about halfway back to the blanket.  Without saying a word they started walking towards her; slowly, inching their way to where Hermione remained immobile and suddenly very nervous. Without warning, she tore off with her attackers in close pursuit.

The three split up and before long, Hermione found herself surrounded.  Ginny and Harry were laughing playfully, but Ron had a feral look about him that gave her shivers. Impulsively, Ron picked her up and flung her over his shoulder.

"Ronald Arthur Weasley, put me down!" Her hair hung over her face.

"You didn't really think we would let you get away, did you?" 

"Ron. I am not amused."  She tried to pull her hair from her face so he could see she was not kidding.

"Really, because I, personally speaking of course, am having a great time."

"Ron, put me down or so help me….Ron? ….Ron!…RON!!" 

And with that, Dr. Hermione Granger, Fellow in Advanced Arithmancy, was thrown, head first, into the water. 

Not to be out done, she quickly made her way over to where Ron stood trying to keep from hyperventilating due to extreme laughter.  She grabbed his ankle and quickly yanked so he fell into the water with a splash and a delayed, "What the…?" A look of smug satisfaction on her face, she stood over him, hands on her hips. "The next time you get the brilliant idea to…"  But before she could finish the sentence, Ron had kicked out her leg from under her, and with kneazle like reflexes, jumped to where she laid and knelt over her. He leaned in close. "You will find, Ms. Granger, that I am full of brilliant ideas."

"You are full of something, all right," she mumbled. "Do you mind moving so I could get up?"

"Of course."  He moved, only slightly giving, Hermione enough room to get up but not without rubbing against him.  In a huff, she stalked off as Ron watched.  Both were oblivious to the eyes that watched the exchange and the amusement that could be found in them.

  



	6. Uncorking Trouble: The Return of Drunk H...

**DISCLAIMER:  Anything you recognized belongs to JK (I'll get book five out when I'm good and ready) Rowling.  I do own the aged computer this was written on.  I would be more than willing to make a trade….******

I am giving this fic a rating of R for later chapters.  R for **restricted, ****responsible for your actions and ****read something else if you are not mature enough to handle adult themes.  You should know better anyway.**

**Author's Notes: I dedicate this chapter to TIKAL, my most loyal and enthusiastic reviewer.  Cheers.**

**CHAPTER SIX – Uncorking Trouble: The Return of Drunk!Hermione**

Ginny and Hermione were sitting on the swinging bench on the front porch of the cabin, leisurely sipping wine and discussing men.

"Gits the whole lot of them."   Hermione was pleased at how that one sentence characterized the male of the species quite well.

"I don't know about that."  Ginny countered with a laugh.  "Some of them can be quite nice."

"Yeah, right.  Like who for example?"

"Oh, I don't know…. Like Colin I guess."

Hermione nearly spit out her wine.  "What!?!"

"I know, I know.  What the hell am I talking about, right? You have to understand, Hermione we were together for years and there were some really goods times there.  He meant a lot to me and he did a lot for me…..He was attentive and caring.  He would surprise me with flowers just because they reminded him of me.  When I was upset he would sing silly songs to cheer me up. He was supportive and sweet and he truly loved me once."  Ginny stopped to run her fingers across the rim of her glass.

Hermione felt her heart breaking for her friend.  "What do you think happened?"

"I don't know.  I guess it was all too one sided and he finally gave up.  He was looking for something from me and I don't think he ever got it.  In truth, I don't think I ever really felt it.  He was comfortable and safe and what I needed….."

"What you needed but not what you wanted," Hermione finished the thought.

Ginny didn't answer but instead took a long sip from her glass.

"What are you doing to my sister?" His voice boomed from the doorway. "We are supposed to be cheering her up and right now she looks like she is ready to jump off a cliff.  Lucky for the both of you I am here to save the day…or night as it were.  I come bearing several more bottles of wine and my winning personality (Insert goofy grin here), not to mention a certain animal magnetism, but I need not tell you that, right Hermione." He winked. Ron Weasley's voice cut through the air with a giddiness that was infectious and both girls couldn't help but smile.

Harry was behind him with two chairs which he promptly situated in front of the girls.  Within a couple of hours seven bottles of wine lay empty on the floor and four voices could be heard singing an atrocious rendition of  The Rolling Stones', "Sympathy For The  Devil." (Author contends the Stones must be part of the wizarding community in some respect as Keith Richards couldn't possibly still be alive otherwise.)  As the night waned, the words slurred into oblivion, which ironically enough sounded better. Undaunted by the triviality of who actually _wanted more wine, Hermione had the presence of mind (and graciousness in her opinion) to refill everyone's glasses.  She was thrilled to see Ginny smiling again and at that one moment, found herself about to burst with love for her dearest friends.  This spelled trouble as bursting in any capacity was a messy business._

"Now this is what I'm talking about."  She declared while still managing to get most of the wine actually in the glasses, which was quite a feat considering the amount of swaying and cursing involved in the process.  "Isn't this great Ginny?  Is there anywhere else you'd rather be than here with your friends."  Red faced and desperately trying to remain coherent, she suddenly barked out a laugh as she remembered something.  "Well, there might be a better place, huh, Gin.  You did have a thing for Oliver Wood didn't you.  I bet you wouldn't mind being with him right now."

Ginny let out a big laugh in response, "Sorry dear, but _you were the one who had a thing for Oliver."  _

Hermione took a moment to look completely befuddled.  "Oh yeah…… that's right.  He did make a rather fine specimen in those Quidditch robes didn't he.  Quite tasty actually."

Ron and Harry looked at each other and smirked.  Hermione seemed to be in a spill your guts sort of stupor and what kind of friends would they be if they did not take complete advantage of the situation and extract Hermione's most embarrassing secrets to blackmail her with for the rest of her life.  What are friends for after all?

"So……….. you had a thing for Oliver did you?" Ron goaded.  "Who else tickled your fancy, Hermione dear?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know you evil boy?"  She giggled as she drained her glass and then paused to look at Ron.  Suddenly she was hit by inspiration.  Either that or a rouge bludger.  It seems that when one has ingested inordinate amounts of alcohol, they feel pretty much the same. "I'll tell you what, Ronnie dear, I'll talk only if you do." She paused to snort and cackle. "Come on Ron," looking at him through her lashes, "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."  She let her tongue ghost over her mouth licking a droplet of wine that spilled on her lip as she spoke.  The gesture was not lost on Ron.

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "Fine, you go first.  Who did you like the look of?"

Hermione shook her head slowly.  "Oh no.  I already went first.  You know all about Oliver.  It's your turn."

He shrugged his shoulders.  "Fine.  Fleur Delacour."

"Not fair, you cheating bastard. We all knew about that.  This is a 'never told anyone' sort of game. Play right or don't play at all."

"Oh, all right, fine.  Lavender Brown." 

"Lavender Brown."  Hermione looked as if she just sucked on a lemon.  "Lavender Fucking Brown.  Lavender, tarot card reading, can't understand a book without pictures, Brown.  Merlin Ron, she was a moron."

"She was not."

"Of courses she was.  The silly prig almost got herself blown up trying to save a crystal ball during an attack at Hogwarts.  So much for being clairvoyant, stupid cow didn't see that coming did she."

"Oh, I suppose you only liked guys for their capacity to memorize Hogwarts: A History."

"Well, I can't help it if I am a little more discriminating than you are." Hermione crossed her arms and raised her nose.

"Oh, of course, Oliver Wood being a troll and all it must have been his mind you where drooling over."  Ron crossed his arms and lowered his head.

"He was just one example.  There were many that I found attractive."

Here we go.  "Like who else for example."

"Like Professor Snape for example."

Now everyone looked like they were sucking on lemons.  "What"!?!?!

"Oh come on.  Half the girls at school fancied him.  He was dark and mysterious.  Everyone wondered which side he was really on.  He had that wicked sense of humor that was just this side of evil.  I used to hear the older girls always talk about wanting to really 'get detention' or be 'properly put in their place.'  They all thought he was damn sexy."

"What!?!?!?!"

"Sure it was like Sirius Black.  Everyone fancied him because he had that dark side to him that shaded past."

"At least Sirius Black was attractive.  Snape was …. was… Snape."  Ron shivered the words out.

"So, you thought Sirius was attractive,  aye Ron."  Hermione gave a wicked grin.

Ron lowered his eyes to half mast. "In a completely heterosexual appreciation of aesthetics, yes, he was attractive."

"Of course.  Well, while Ron tries to convince himself of his sexuality Ginny can back me up.  You know all about liking bad boys don't you, Gin."

Ginny's blush could be felt be everyone in the room.

"What do you know about liking bad boys?"  Ron spoke but it was Harry who was looking at her as if his eyes were about to fly out of his head.

"I don't know what you are talking about Hermione."

"Oh, yes you do.  I am not the only one going down tonight. I'm taking you with me."

"Really, this is getting silly.  I'm gong to bed…" She attempted to get up.

"Sit down and let's have it."  Ron was not about to let this go.

Ginny looked nervously around the room, knowing that she drank too much to successfully lie but wishing she drank more so she wouldn't remember this in the morning.  "Oh…. all right.  Draco Malfoy.  Are you satisfied?"

"Draco Bloody Malfoy."  The words escaped Harry's lips before he could pull them back and everyone turned to stare at him with either a look of dazed confusion or bemused delight.

 "Yes….well…I couldn't help it, he was attractive and he had a great body."  If she was going down she might as well hit rock bottom.

"Ginny."  Ron was flabbergasted and Harry was nauseated.

"Look you asked. I was more than willing to let this go."  Actually this was sort of fun.

"Draco was so…so…blond."  The alcohol was getting to Ron and he was cross with himself for not coming up with anything better.  "And anyway we didn't even know what side he was on until the last minute and I still say he switched to save his own hide."

"Whatever.  No one asked you.  Besides I was not thinking of his political allegiances when he took his shirt off after a Quidditch match.  He was sexy and I found him attractive.  Anyway have you seen him lately….Dear Merlin, he has the tightest...."

"All right.  Enough of that." Ron knew no amount of alcohol would erase those words from his memory. When did he lose control? "As I am trying desperately to hold down the wine I have thus far consumed, I think we need to change the subject.  Quickly.  Now…onto more important topics.  Hermione, who else did you fancy."

"Why are you picking on me again.  Isn't it Harry's turn?"

Harry blanched. 

Ron just gave her a look.  "Harry!  Harry never liked anyone.  And frankly, I don't really care.  It's your turn again."

"I went last with Snape. You go."

"Fine. Susan Bones."

"The Hufflepuff?"  Back to lemons.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Well nothing personally,  but Hufflepuff?  They were so…. dull."  

"We can't all go around fighting trolls and evil overlords can we.  Besides, she was very pretty.  I think her dad was someone.  Seems she could get into any class she wanted despite her house."

"What are you going on about?"

"Sorry.  Obscure reference to a muggle movie.  Back to the important question, who else did you fancy?"

She sighed in resignation.  "Let's see.  There was Professor Lupin."

Contemplating that answer, Ron acquiesced. "I could see that."  

Hermione gave another smirk.  "Let me guess.  In a completely heterosexual appreciation of aesthetics, yes, he was attractive."

"Oh, come on.  Like you never noticed that other girl's were attractive."

Hermione thought for a moment and began to nod her head. "Well, I always thought Parvati Patil was really sexy actually.

Both Ron and Harry were now paying exceedingly close attention.

"She had those smoldering dark eyes and that rich olive skin.  You know I don't know what she did to it but it was so soft.  I was helping her dress once when my hand just brushed against her bare back and I was really shocked at how supple it was.  Like velvet.

Ron and Harry inched closer to her, their mouths agape.

"I remember one time we all got into a pillow fight and…and…" and she abruptly passed out.

Ginny took one look at the boys and burst out laughing. "Serves you right for prying."

"Oh, shut it Ginny."  Ron went over to Hermione and picked her up.  "I'm taking her to her room." 

"I'll go with you." Ginny answered.

"Don't worry I promise not to look at her knickers.  I'm just putting her to bed."

Ron carefully carried Hermione to her room, as carefully as one could after consuming vast quantities of wine.  Inwardly, he was grateful that he only hit her head against the wall three times, which was quite an accomplishment considering the amount of swaying and cursing involved in the process.  He laid her down on her bed and proceeded to take her shoes off.  He pulled her bedspread up to her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before bidding her good night.

"noonecomparedtoyouron"

"What Hermione? Did you say something?" But she was sound asleep.  He could have sworn she had said something that sounded remarkably like…. But that would be silly wouldn't it.  He gave her one last smile before he walked out and closed the door behind him.

In the darkened room a bleary voice muttered, "No one compared to you, Ron." And then the room went silent.


	7. The Subtle Science And Exact Art That Is...

**DISCLAIMER:  Anything you recognized belongs to JK (I'll get book five out when I'm good and ready) Rowling.  I do own the aged computer this was written on.  I would be more than willing to make a trade….******

I am giving this fic a rating of R for later chapters.  R for **restricted, ****responsible for your actions and ****read something else if you are not mature enough to handle adult themes.  You should know better anyway.**

**Warning – Fic earns rating here.**

Author's Notes - To everyone who gave me such wonderful reviews, I thank you.  Please note several Fic sites are under attack and there is always a chance this story or others will get pulled off these sites. Please make note of where else this fic is archived on the 'just in case.'  No matter where you read it, please send me reviews.  They keep me motivated.

**CHAPTER SEVEN - ****The Subtle Science And Exact Art That is ****Cooking Or What is that Smell?**

"Whose brilliant idea was it for us to cook dinner?"  Ron Weasley looked at the mass of groceries sprawled out before him.  "And we're supposed to turn this into what exactly."

"First of all, it was your idea to get Harry and Ginny together, so while they are out for a nice, long, romantic walk gathering wood for the fireplace we will be preparing a delicious meal.  We have been here a week and nothing as happened, forcing them to spent time alone should move things along nicely.   And for your information it's going to be a lasagna."

For fear of being hexed beyond impotency, Ron refrained from laughing.  "Do you know how to make a lasagna? Shouldn't we start with something easier?"

"I've been through a dozen cookbooks and found several recipes.  How hard can it be?"

"Hermione, you brunt toast yesterday.  Perhaps this is not the best idea."

"I did not burn the toast.  I told you I like it well done."

"Well done!?!  It turned into dust when you bit into it."

"It was just extra crispy."

"And black.  Extra crispy and black."

"Can we just drop the toast thing?  I can't help it if you have faulty equipment here.  I'm telling you this will not be so hard.  The book has pictures for Merlin's sake, even _you can understand them."_

"Wouldn't you be better off using magic.  There are spells you know….."

"I. Do. Not. Need. To. Use. Spells.  If I could translate the equations that may eventually lead to a cure for lycanthropy I could certainly follow a simple recipe and cook a lasagna."

Two hours later, they both stood looking into the pan." It doesn't quite look like the picture does it?"

"Shut up Ron."

He smiled at her.  Hermione Granger was not used to failing at something.  What kind of friend would he be if he did not take complete advantage of the situation and use it to ridicule Hermione for the rest of her life?  What are friends for after all?

 "Maybe we could just cover it in sauce and cheese and no one will know."

"Shut up Ron."

"I mean, unless they actually try to eat it or something….Is it supposed to smell like that."

A frying pan was sent hurdling across the room, missing Ron's head by millimeters as it smashed into the wall behind him.  "Oh sure, that you'll use magic for."

The toaster followed the frying pan.

"Sure, destroy the evidence so one can figure out what _really happened to the toast.  You are devious aren't you."_

"That's it, Ron if you speak one more word I will…"  She pointed her wand.  But, before she could finish her sentence Ron leapt forward grabbing her by the wrist and taking her wand.  He pulled her in close.  "You'll what?" He mocked.

"Ronald Arthur Weasley, you let me go this instant.  Don't think your Auror training will be enough to stop me from pummeling you.  Let me go now!"

He watched her as she tried to pull her arm away.  She was never more beautiful as she was at that moment; her hair was quickly coming out of the clasp that held it down, her eyes were wild and irate, and a flush of deep crimson awash across her cheeks.  He knew he was in for a world of trouble if he let go.  But then again why would he want to let go. "I don't think I will."

Hermione was apoplectic.  "What do you mean you don't think you will?  I don't remember giving you options.  Get your hands off me."

"No." His eyes darkened as he simply smiled.  Without any explanation, he threw her wand across the room and put his hands around her waist as he lifted her onto the table.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not sure really, but sometimes you just have to say what the hell."  And before she could respond he leaned in further and kissed her.

It took her a minute to realize that Ron Weasley, the love of her life and the bane of her existence was kissing her.  It took slightly longer for it to register that this was not the kiss of a best buddy.  This was the kiss of a  man  who was ready to devour her starting at her mouth and greedily consuming her very being.  After that it was really a matter of nanoseconds for her to kiss him back matching his intensity and rivaling his strength.

She brought her hands up to his head and wrapped her legs around his waist as his hands snaked behind her and pulled her in towards him.  His mouth attacked hers, frantically pulsing his tongue in and out in a fevered rush.  Suddenly the room became unbearably hot and their clothes, incredibly constricting.  She ripped off his pull-over and undershirt revealing the smooth chest she fantasized about in the wee small hours of the night.  Of their own volition, her hands began stoking his shoulders, coasting over his chest and running down his torso, lingering at the soft patch of hair on his abdomen.  She was rewarded with shivers that seemed to start where her hand twirled the ginger curls in her fingers and ended with his lips which had refused to leave their current location.

When she raked her nails across his hips he lost all sense of reason.  Unable to hold off any longer Ron brought his hands to Hermione's blouse and began to unbutton it.   He managed to unfasten the entire blouse in seconds without ripping a single button.  In the back of her mind, Hermione felt she should be appalled by that ability and the proficiency with which he preformed it, but as that part tried to protest the other ninety seven percent of her mind was screaming 'Shut up, can't you feel what this boy is doing with his mouth.'

His warm hand stroked her sides as he eased his way past her underclothes and onto her breasts.  'The boy has talent……oh my…'  The rest of that thought was lost as a languid thumb rubbed over her hardened nipples.  The gentle machinations of his fingers were a direct contrast to the  fierceness of his kiss and the combination was enough to make Hermione's head spin.  That annoying part of her brain began to act up again.  'And where the Hell did he learn to do that.'  As Ron then softly pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger in a maneuver that set every part of her body on fire, the rest of her brain was prepared to award certificates of merit to the party that assisted in his training.  'My God, he should have been valedictorian.'

He finally ripped his lips away from hers but only so she could latch them onto the breasts that somehow became exposed as Hermione found herself topless.  She was wondering when Ron had learned to do wandless magic when his mouth found its destination and her entire brain, including that little annoying part in the back that really tried to sabotage the evening, was rejoicing.

The fierceness of his kiss was replaced by the savoring of her breast.  Slowly, almost painfully so, he lathed her nipples for what seemed like an eternity.  He paused only long enough to run his tongue up and down her torso as he attempt to taste every inch of exposed skin.  He found his way to her neck, where he attached himself to the spot where the neck and shoulder met placing firm bites all along the ridge while his hand returned to her breasts, cupping them and caressing them in the same slow rhythm.

She was on the verge of exploding and as amazing as it all felt, she needed more.  She reached her slightly shaking hand down to his groin and began to rub in earnest.  The hardness she found there and the moan which escaped his mouth at her touch told her he wanted it as much as she did.

The slow pace was now superceded by two pairs of hands frantically trying to undress each other. Hermione was tugging on the clasp of Ron's jeans when they heard a knock at the door.

"Who the hell…."  Ron was visibly furious.

"Just ignore them." Hermione was pleading.

The knocking became more insistent.  "Let me get rid of them."  Ron quickly got dressed and fixed his hair before going to the door.

Hermione remained propped up on the table, half naked and completely flustered as she listened to find out who had the nerve to interrupt what she had been waiting for since third year of Hogwarts.

Just then the shrill screech of hell's siren filled the room, "SURPRISE RONNY DARLING."

Marie Elena was in town.


	8. I Didn't Know They Had Lasagna In Hell

**DISCLAIMER:  Anything you recognized belongs to JK (I'll get book five out when I'm good and ready) Rowling.  I do own the aged computer this was written on.  I would be more than willing to make a trade….******

I am giving this fic a rating of **R for later chapters.  **R** for **r**estricted, ****responsible for your actions and ****read something else if you are not mature enough to handle adult themes.  You should know better anyway.**

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for  your reviews.  And if you think you hate her now just wait for these next few chapters**.  **

And to those of you who asked, yes we do get into Harry and Ginny a little more.  I promise not to disappoint.  Good things come to those who wait and review often.

**CHAPTER EIGHT – I Didn't Know They Had Lasagna In Hell?**

"OH BLOODY HELL…" was all Hermione could manage before jumping off the table and retrieving her clothes.  Her bra had disappeared somewhere and since pausing to find it would not be the best idea given her current situation, she resorted to throwing on her blouse and running her fingers through her hair.  She had managed to look half-way reasonable when Ron and the Bitch Du Jour entered the kitchen.

Large as life, Marie Elena stood. Long blonde hair hung halfway down her back. Blue eyes glittered like sapphires.  Her designer clothes clung to her form, reveling in her abundant curves.  Perfectly made up, perfectly dressed, perfectly nauseating.  Hermione looked her up and down half out of disdain, half out of pure appreciation.  And in that one instant the euphoria and ecstasy that had threatened to overwhelm her a few precious minutes ago disappeared.  She suddenly felt like a toad; small, insignificant and covered in warts.  She could not compete and all she was doing was setting herself up for a fall from which she might never recover.

The look Marie Elena gave her only confirmed her amphibian-ness.  "Oh hello there….Henrietta isn't it?" A blinding smile.

"Hermione," she replied through clenched teeth, "Lovely to see you again….Marie Antoinette, right?"

"Mar- ie E-len-a" she over enunciated each syllable of her name.  "Ron didn't tell me you would be here."

The look of hurt flashed on Hermione's face before she could stop it and Ron quickly responded. "I told you I was going to be with my sister and my best friends."

Marie Elena gave a giggle.  "Well of course darling but I assumed it was that delightful Harry….speaking of which where are they?" Despite the situation her tone held no suspicion, as if the thought of something going on between Hermione and Ron was ludicrous. So unbelievable in fact that it never entered her vapid mind.

"Gathering firewood….Hermione and I stayed behind and made dinner."  He motioned to the pan on the counter top.

"Oh lovely, I'm famished……what….what is that?"  Her eyes went wide and Hermione stomach dropped.  'Perfect.  Just perfect.'

"Lasagna," she managed to say.

"Are you sure?  Looks a bit frightening, doesn't it.  Did you use a recipe?"  She started to laugh at this point and Hermione nearly snarled.  Undaunted by the waves of hatred emanating from the brunette, Marie Elena continued to laugh and to completely ignore her existence.  "Tell you what, if you give me half an hour I can whip up a fabulous meal.  Ron, you can help me while …..Herm-eye-o-knee is it… while Hermione goes and spruces up.  You look awfully flustered dear.  I can image you are not used to preparing a meal?  Don't worry, Marie Elena to the rescue."

Hermione was ready to pull each of Marie Elena dazzling white teeth out of her head when she was stopped by a pleading look from Ron.  She exhaled.  Now was not the time for this.  They were here for Ginny and like it or not their intimate group has just increased by one.  'Though if you factor in her ego that would make it two more, not to mention her breasts which require a room of their own.….'  Hermione derailed that train of thought before it got her in more trouble.  "I'll be up stairs."  She turned to leave when she spotted her bra dangling off the door knob just behind Marie Elena's back.  

As inconspicuously as possible she motioned to Ron who turned and found the incriminating item on display.  He grabbed it and tucked it in his shirt before Marie Elena turned around.

"Something wrong, love?"

"No…no," he managed.  He began to rub his stomach where he was holding Hermione's bra. "My stomach is a bit upset, that's all."

"You didn't eat any of _that_ did you?"  Her voice was full of concern.  Hermione's wand hand started to twitch.

"No. I just have to get a tonic from my room.  Excuse me?"

He left and Hermione followed. "I'll be getting cleaned up?  Let me know if you can't find something."

Marie Elena gave her a nod of dismissal as she threw the lasagna in the trash.  Not bothering to withhold the look of disgust as she dumped it out.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from screaming as she left and made her way upstairs to where Ron was waiting by her bedroom door.  "Hermione look…"  His face was full of remorse and uncertainty and Hermione knew what was coming.  If nothing else she needed to spare herself the 'It was a mistake' speech if she was going to retain any dignity.

"No Ron….Don't say anything……I understand….things got carried away and now _she's here and….anyway it doesn't matter….none of it matters, just go down stairs….I'll be fine."_

"Hermione wait…" 

Oh Gods…please Ron…not now….I just can't.  "No, Ron.  This is not the right time…We can talk later….Ginny and Harry will be back any minute and ….just go down stairs…I'll be all right really.  You don't want to keep her waiting."

"Hermione…"

"Just go please," she managed in a strained whisper.

He pursed his lips and gave a small nod and went to leave.   After a few steps he stopped. "Hermione wait."

Their eyes locked. "Yes." The slightest hint of hope escaped her lips.

He paused and then sighed.  "Here…" reaching under his shirt and he extracted her bra.

"Oh….yes….thanks…"

They stared at each other for a while before finally separating.  Ron went downstairs and Hermione went in her room and closed the door.  When she was sure he was back in the kitchen she threw herself on the bed, unleashing the tears that begged to be released.

  



	9. Meanwhile, On The Other Side Of The Wood...

**DISCLAIMER:  Anything you recognized belongs to JK (I'll get book five out when I'm good and ready) Rowling.  I do own the aged computer this was written on.  I would be more than willing to make a trade….******

I am giving this fic a rating of **R.  **R** for ****restricted, **r**esponsible for your actions and **r**ead something else if you are not mature enough to handle adult themes.  You should know better anyway.**

**Author's notes:  **Thank you so much for your reviews.  See….I promised not to ignore Harry and Ginny. ****

**CHAPTER NINE – Meanwhile, On The Other Side of the ****Forest**** …**

"Why are we gathering wood again?"  Ginny pointed her wand at the small group of logs she collected and reduced them to pocket size before joining Harry.

"For the fire place?"  Harry was doing the same.

"To do what exactly."  Ginny had gone along to give Ron and Hermione time alone but the whole endeavor seemed useless.  

"What do you suppose someone does with wood in a fireplace?"

"Are we planning to Floo somewhere?"

"No."

"Is it going to be cold tonight?"  
  


"No."

"Is there  problem with the lights or something?"

"No. Look, it's supposed to be romantic."

"What is?"

"Burning wood in a fireplace?"

"Watching the remnants of a once beautiful tree be reduced to ash is romantic you say?"

"It's what I've heard.  It's warm and lovely and smells good."

"And we sit and watch it?"  Ginny was finding this all a little hard to believe.

Harry just shook his head.  "Didn't you ever sit in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts?"

"Nightly."

"Didn't you like sitting by the fire?"

"I always sat on the other side of the room actually?"

"Why?"

Because then I could watch you from afar and not be humiliated by my brothers more than I already was.  "Because ….because that's where Colin sat."  Where did that come from?

Harry was clearly not expecting that answer. "You miss him don't you?"

Ginny kicked at some rocks and answered truthfully.  "I don't know."

Harry seemed to accept this and continued walking.

"You're not going to ask for more of an explanation?"

"I'm not sure it's my place. We're friends and all but I am not sure that we are the kind of friends who talk about that sort of thing."

What is that supposed to mean?  "What kind of friends are we then?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders.  "The kind that gets together and plots against the rest of our friends, of course."

Ginny laughed and stared at him.  "You know if our plan succeeds and Ron and Hermione do finally get it together we are both going to have a lot of  spare time on our hands.  Maybe we _could turn into the kind of friends who talk about….things. Just because we haven't up until now doesn't mean we can't start."_

Intriguing premise.  "What kind of…things?"

"All kinds I suppose.  You could drone on for hours about your misdeeds with an invisibility cloak no one is supposed to know about and I  could gossip incessantly about my brothers and their misdeeds with the various girlfriends who aren't supposed to know about each other.  You could complain about your fame and I could pretend to show sympathy.  I could complain about my over protective brothers and you could pretend to listen.  You could bore me with hours of Quidditch talk and I could force you to sit with me while I get my nails done.  That sort of thing."

"Fascinating concept.  Tell me, what do you get done to your nails exactly?"

"Cut, filed and painted."

His eyes went wide.  "Sounds barbaric.  Isn't there some way to do that with a wand?"

"If females waited to be able to freely use a wand before setting about learning to  groom themselves you would never be able to differentiate the sexes. It's more fun this way, trust me.  You should come along with me and we could sit and get our hair done together."

"Are you implying that my locks are less than perfect?"

"I am implying no such thing…I am stating it.  You really need some help."

"And you think you could help me?"

"Why not?  I worked wonders with Millicent Bulstrode."

"You were responsible for that?"

"If you mean turning her beautiful then, yes, I am.  Poor thing spent most of her seventh year locked in Myrtle's bathroom crying.  Even Myrtle got sick of the whining.  Olivia Galladrille and I spent three days making her over.  It took two hours alone to convince her that eyebrows were meant to come in pairs.  I don't even want to get into how long it took us to shave her legs.  Crookshanks was less furry."

"It only took three days you say.  That's impressive considering it changed her personality completely.  She hit on me you know."

"She did not?"

"She did.  It seemed your make-over went to her head and she went for …..well mine."

"NO!"

"Yes….She made a grab for me at the end of year feast.  Literally made a grab.  It was no fun having hands the size of a small dog going for your privates, I'll tell you that much."

"What did you do?"

"I handled it as any mature, courageous person who fought evil overloads for almost the entirety of his life; I screamed like a girl and went running to Ron."

"Typical."

"What do you mean typical?  What is so typical about a six foot girl with the shoulders of a Beater and a mustache?"

"We got rid of the mustache."

"You can try but it is hard for any man to forget that a girl had more facial hair than he did."

"All right, all right enough about Millicent.  I promise to never insult your raven tresses again."

"Fine.  Let's talks about something else….. Tell me about you and Colin."

"You don't waste time do you?"

"Wasted enough already I think."

Ginny was somewhat confused by the statement and a little taken aback by Harry's interest in her life.  "What do you want to know?"

"Nothing in particular."  Why did you date him?  Why did you stay with him for so long?  Did you ever love him?  Was he good to you?  How good?  Do you still think of him?  Do you miss him?  Do you want him back? "Nothing in particular, at all."

"Right….Well I'm not sure where to begin…."  She let out a deep breath. "Colin and I started to date during our sixth year.  He had been asking me out for a long time but I always said no.  I was waiting for…..waiting to turn a bit older. Then I got a bit older ……and waiting didn't seem like a great idea any more so I thought why not. Then everything happened with Voldemort and I was so worried about you…..and Ron and Hermione and everyone else that I clung to him.  He helped me through it all, supporting me and comforting me.  I needed that so much and coming from a home where I always had to share everything it was nice to have something that was just for me.  Selfish, I suppose but it felt good to have someone only concerned about me."  Ginny paused.  There was a look of something in her eyes that Harry could not place.  She continued,   "Those days were hard.  I'm not as strong as the rest of you.  I cried on his shoulders more than I care to remember.  I felt so….so…useless."

The surprise must have shown on his face because she stopped.  He couldn't believe she felt like that.  "You were not useless.  You were learning to be a healer.  Madame Pomfrey went on and on about how you helped her and how you saved people."

She gave a small laugh.  "What did I really do Harry? I patched up the people who risked their lives….who risked everything while I sat safely in school.  People died and lost everything and I …I…"

"You did your part.  We are not all meant to be on the front lines, Ginny.  We all have to work within our capabilities and use what ever it is we have in the best possible way.  You have the gift of healing and that is special.  You were needed at the school.  Bill, Charlie and Ron were needed on the font lines, Percy and your father at the Ministry.  Fred and George made spying devices.  Your job was just as important as theirs.  People lived to see their parents again or their children because you used your gifts to their best potential at the time you were needed.  You should never be ashamed of that.  How many others ignored the problem hoping it would just go away?  And for the record were all scared and we all cried…a lot.  It doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

Ginny stared at him in wonderment and in a small voice said, "Thank you….Thank you for that…I felt so…so …unworthy for so long."

"Unworthy of  what?"

"Nothing….It's late we'd better go back."

"You can't just leave it like that?"

"Harry…."

"Unworthy of what Ginny?"

She sighed. "I didn't think I was good enough to have the life I really wanted to have so I settled."

"You settled…for Colin? Why?"

A heart can only be broken so many times Harry, before it turns to dust.

"Harry…" She tried to walk away.

He grabbed her arm.  "Ginny….why did you settle?"

She sighed again, this was quickly becoming an annoying habit. "I settled because it seemed to me the only thing I deserved.  I settled because it was easier than waiting for something that might never happen.  Then, before I knew it, five years passed.  I don't think I ever loved him.  Not the way one should love a spouse anyway, and definitely not the way he loved me. Good God, I almost married him."  She spoke to herself, momentarily forgetting she was not alone.

"Why?"

Oh, shit I am not alone. "Why what?"

"Why would you almost marry someone you didn't love?"

She looked at him for a while but did not answer.  Silently they let their feet take them home.  Somehow, they found their way back to the cottage. 

"Well, it's still standing."  Harry was lost for things to say.

"That's a good sign." So was Ginny.

"We'd better go inside."

With that they entered and were immediately  caught up in the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen.

Ginny and Harry were surprised.  Truth be told they expected smoke and flames coming from the kitchen and not something that smelled actually edible.  Harry remembered the toast incident and winced.  Something was not right. 

"Hello.  We're back.  Smells great in here.  Did you order out?"

"No, they ordered me."  Marie Elena came out of the kitchen wearing an apron that did not have a single smudge on it.  Ron followed her out, looking tired and anxious.

"Marie Elena.  This is a surprise.  Ron didn't tell us you were coming."  Ginny tried to sound welcoming but that was a bit difficult to do when you don't actually move your jaw while speaking.

"No, I wanted to surprise him and it's a good thing I did, you should have seen the dinner they had waiting for you.  Botulism in a pan."  She shuddered.  "No, I came to save the day as it were.  Poor ….oh, what was it…Hestia or something, was falling apart.  Poor thing seemed rather useless in the kitchen.  You should all go and wash up; everything will be ready in a few minutes."

She re-entered the kitchen and a silent Ron followed her in.  Harry and Ginny looked at each other.  This was not good.  Not good at all.

**TBC**

**I tried not to sound too maudlin.  Did I fail miserably?**

**This is the part where the Author shamelessly begs for reviews.**


	10. Well That Was Quite Unexpected

**Author's Notes -** Sorry it has been so long between chapters – I am working with a beta now and hope to get the glitches out of these stories.  There will be a bit of a pause between chapters as I go back to those already posted and correct any grammatical atrocities I have committed.

I would like to thank Diana, and her Purple Pen of Death, for her help in not only fleshing out my errors, but making this and my other stories, better through her questions and insight.

**Fellytones**** And Fuzzy Slippers**

**CHAPTER TEN – Well That Was Quite Unexpected**

"I'll go upstairs and talk to Hermione.  You get Ron the hell out of the kitchen and find out what in Hades is going on."  Harry nearly saluted.  He knew an order when he heard one.  He entered the kitchen to find Marie Elena tossing a salad and babbling while Ron looked out the window, more interested in the view outside than inside.

"Mind if I borrow Ron for a moment?" Harry said.  "I ….I need some help with the fireplace."

"Of course, but don't be gone long."  She gave Ron a kiss. "You may leave now."

Ron, who had still not said a word, followed Harry into the living room.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded.

"It was a surprise," Ron replied almost listlessly.

"No kidding. Well, you don't seem too happy about it."

"It was just bad timing."

"Meaning?"  

"Meaning she came at a bad time."  

"Thanks for clearing that up.  I was temperately blinded by your remarkable use of syntax.  _Why was it a bad time?  I would think you would be pleased to see your girlfriend." Harry crossed his arms over his body in his best 'out with it' stance._

"I had other things on my mind."  He sounded drained.

Harry was getting the impression that nailing pudding to a tree would have been easier than getting a clear answer from Ron at that moment. "Such as?"

"Hermione."

"You were thinking of Hermione?" 

"So to speak."

"Mind elaborating, mate?" Yes, pudding…tree….easier.  

"I was kissing Hermione when Marie Elena came in."

Well that was quite unexpected.  "Sounds like you had Hermione on more than just your mind." He smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm glad you are so amused." 

Harry fought to hide his elation at the news that something finally happened.  What he couldn't understand was Ron's reaction to it. "What's going on Ron, really?"

"I don't know, really.  Hermione and I were making dinner and fighting and in an instant, I realized how right it all felt, how right everything has felt since I've been here.  And it felt right because she was here …with me. So I kissed her because it seemed like what I was supposed to do, what I should have been doing all along."

"So this is a good thing then, isn't it?"

"I don't know."

If you weren't my best friend I'd…"You just said it felt right then.  What makes it not feel right now?"

Ron looked down and kicked at the leg of the sofa.  "Hermione just shut me off.  Marie Elena showed up and I left the room and waited for Hermione upstairs so we could talk.  When she came up, she told me to let it go.  She told me to leave."

Oh…"She was probably just really thrown off.  First, you guys are getting intimate, and then Marie Elena shows up out of nowhere.  It's a lot for a person to handle.  Don't give up on her."

"What am I not supposed to give up Harry……She said it didn't matter."

"Did it matter to you?"

"More than I could ever explain."

"Then that's it, isn't it?" Ron did not seem convinced. "Ron, things are not as bleak as you are making them out.  You have to ask yourself what it is you really want.  If it's Marie Elena, fine.  Talk things over with Hermione and let her know.  She's your best friend and you two will work things out.  But if it is Hermione that you really want…"

"What if I don't know what I want?" he spoke softly.

"I think you do," Harry responded just as softly.

"What do you know about anything?" Ron began to walk away.

"I know about missed opportunities and wasted time.  I know about broken hearts and stupidity…I know **a lot** about stupidity.  Stop trying to make every girl into Hermione when you have the real thing upstairs."

He gave Ron a sympathetic smile and went to the fireplace to begin the blasted romantic fire.  Ron just looked after him and wondered when he lost control and why the humming that was coming out of the kitchen suddenly sounded like piercing screech of a mandrake.

Ginny wasted no time and practically flew upstairs.  She knocked on Hermione's door before entering.  Though she had no intention of waiting for permission to enter, she would not be rude about it.

Hermione sat quietly on the bed staring at herself in the mirror.  Ginny bit her lip. 

"Hermione?……Hermione are you all right?"

"I'm fine," replied a voice completely devoid of emotion.

"You don't sound fine." Ginny could not hide her concern.

"I was just thinking."

The look on her face was one Ginny was not used to seeing.  She looked defeated. "Thinking of…"

"Who am I, Ginny?"

Ginny did not like the tone Hermione's voice had taken on.  It was harsh and rough but only just above a whisper, as if she was trying desperately to keep herself together and was losing the battle.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who am I?"

"You are Hermione Granger."

"Is that all?" She gave a small laugh.

"That's enough."

"Enough for who, Ginny?"

"Enough for anyone who knows what's good for them."

Hermione said no more but continued to look in the mirror. Ginny waited for her to speak but nothing came out, so she pressed further.  "What happened?"

"He kissed me," she stated, still not showing any emotions.

Well that was quite unexpected.  "What!?!"

"Ron kissed me and just as things started getting….interesting that banshee came in."

"He really kissed you?" She sat down next to Hermione, stunned at the news.  It was what she had wanted but somehow, somewhere things went horribly, horribly wrong.  

"It was more than a kiss, Ginny.  He was ready to eat me alive and I was quite happy about it."

Though afraid to ask she really couldn't help herself.  "Then what?"

"Then she came in, and I was cast aside."

"What do you mean?" Images of thrashing her brother instantly popped into her head.  She quickly wondered if Snape had a rack buried somewhere in his dungeon.

Hermione continued speaking, unaware of Ginny's thoughts of torturing her brother.  "I mean, suddenly, I didn't matter."  

Ginny tried to comfort her.  "Hermione, somehow I don't think that's true." 'Yes, definitely.  Slow, agonizing torture.  Ron would suffer.'

"It is.  You weren't here Ginny."  Hermione voice broke here, and Ginny's heart with it. 

'Drawn and quartered. That's it.  Where could she get some large, ill-tempered horses?' Ginny put her anger aside, as best she could, and concentrated on her despondent friend. "What happened next?"

Hermione gave a small, mirthless smile. "Well after I cried my eyes out, I sat here and started to stare at myself in the mirror. You know, if you stare long enough the image distorts.  Slowly at first without you even realizing it.  But before you know it you are looking at the face of a stranger.  That stranger was looking back at me when I realized something."

"What?" Ginny was about to snap from the tension in the room.

"I realized that with everything I have accomplished in my lifetime, I don't have the one thing I wanted more that anything else.  You see, I had myself convinced that I would have to change who I was to get it and I was unwilling to do that.  But today, I realized by not doing anything about it, I had already changed who I was. I was never someone who waited for others to choose my life's path for me.  I was never someone to let something go because it seemed too hard to get.  I never thought I was not deserving of something, especially something I really wanted.  No, I am not the person I thought I was.  What I am is a coward."

Ginny wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she was being too hard on herself.  But it felt too hypocritical.

Then suddenly the tone changed.  Ginny watched as Hermione sat up and squared her shoulders.  She took a deep breath before speaking.  "But today, Ginny, today I got a taste of something I want and I'll be damned if I let it go.  Ron Weasley belongs to me whether he knows it or not and I plan on taking back what's mine." She nearly snarled.

Ginny smiled and looked at her friend.  The color was back on her face and her eyes held a spark and a fury that spoke volumes.  "Well it's about time." 

Then, Hermione finally turned to face her friend and smiled. It was a smile that held the promise of some unpleasantness heading for one Marie Elena.  And for a brief second, Ginny almost felt bad for her.  

Almost.****

**Author's notes** – I know this story got a bit heavy but I promise to revert back to the juvenile, fluffy, fun that was it's original purpose. 

Don't forget to review. 


	11. Of Course, You Realize This Means War

**CHAPTER ELEVEN – Of Course, You Realize This Means War**

If Hermione Granger, Fellow of Advanced Arithmancy, was good at anything, it was organization. This current problem, in essence, was not very different from other problems she had faced in her life.  She helped rid the world of one paragon of darkness and depravity; she would do the same with this one.

Step One in ridding the world of evil is identifying the source of said evil.  That was easy enough.  In this particular case, evil came in the form of an overly made-up, incredibly annoying, exceedingly verbose, expectantly soon to be ex-girlfriend of one Ron Weasley.  

Step Two would be trickier: devise a plan that would get 'The Evil One' out of one's hair in a way that was subtle enough that the plan itself could not be detected, while overt enough to still be enjoyable.  After all, what was the point of eliminating 'The Demon Spawn' from the world if one did not enjoy doing it?

Step Three: the enlistment of accomplices.  Ginny Weasley had volunteered for duty before the plans were even set.  Hermione knew she was the perfect candidate. Women have an innate sense of pain.  Women bear pain in ways men could never fathom.  And, how could one who really had no sense of dealing with pain, know how to dispense it properly?  Oh, they might be able do more harm to someone physically, but physical wounds heal.  Men might be stronger in body, but woman were stronger in mind; and let's face it, the only way to fight evil is to be evil.  Harry, for example, might not have the killer instinct needed for such an operation.  Granted, he did destroy 'He Who Must Not Be Named Without Eerie Music Playing In The Background,' but he might have qualms with her methods and the premeditated destruction of a relationship…..blah, blah, blah.  Really, who had time for such trivialities?

Step Four: preparations.  Ginny was presently taking care of Step Four - Part One, Hermione was in charge of Step Four – Part Two which entailed a shower, a change of clothes, and a new attitude.  If she was going to challenge the 'Queen of All Things Plastic',  she would have to be on par with her and this would require a bit of work.  

Hermione was a better witch, of that she was certain.  However, though the idea of hexing Marie Elaina into smithereens was a wonderful way to kill a few hours, it was not how she was going to win this particular battle. She would not fight witch to witch, but woman to woman. It would be the only way to make Marie Elena truly understand what it is to lose and to whom she was losing.  It would be the only way to inflict the proper amount of humility to the 'Ice Princess.' It was time to bring in the big guns.  It was time for the LBD - the Little Black Dress (pause for dramatic emphasis - lightening crashes, thunder rolls, small animals scurrying away in fright).

To understand the importance of the gesture, one must take a moment to truly appreciate the LBD.  Most women have one in the recesses of their closet.  This is the dress that is just a little too short.  Just a little too tight.  One that hugs curves you never knew you had.  One that looks as if it was made for your body and your body only.  One that makes you feel sexy the second you put it on.  It has to be simple.  All black, no buttons or ornamentation.  The exhibition of the LBD should only be used in emergencies because once revealed, it would never again have its full potency. 

_(Author notes that her astute beta questioned the  wisdom of revealing the philosophy of the LBD to the guys of the world; asking if it was not a violation of some writ in the canon of the sisterhood. I disagree, citing that the fact the LBD works as well as it does, should be enough proof that the male of the species, just doesn't get it. Any creature that can be manipulated by a dress deserves what he gets.)_

Hermione wasn't sure if she was going to need it on this trip to the countryside, but she brought it along, just in case.  You always bring it along, just in case.  You never know when the moment will present itself.  One must always be prepared for the possibility that one may find the need to crush a competitor into dust, after all.

She had decided to put her hair up with random curls released to frame her face.  Her make-up would be light with extra attention given to her eyes.  Natural radiance was the theme: softness and an unobtrusive glow to contrast 'The Evil One's' angular, more stark features. A whisper of perfume behind her ears - Jasmine would do nicely.  And the final touch: bare tanned legs and painted toes peaking out of open toed sling backs.  

An appraising look in the mirror told her it was time to proceed.  It was time for Step Five: Execution.

Step Five - Phase 1. Engaging the enemy and the eyeing the prize.

Hermione waited for everyone to be seated at the table before making her entrance. Lieutenant Ginny Weasley made sure that Ron was seated opposite the staircase so he would be the first to see her when she entered.  And he was.

In her best, Grace Kelly-entering -a –roomful- of- unsuspecting- suitors –on- the –night- of –the- King's -Ball persona, she slowly came down the stairs. It was a stance that said: "Look at me.  **I am worth waiting for."  More importantly, however, she needed to make sure she didn't stumble down the steps and make an ass of herself.  This was the debut of the LBD, and it had to be perfect.**

She paused at the bottom of the steps enjoying the look on Ron's face, a cross between blatant arousal and abject fear.  Perfect.  His inability to speak caught Harry's attention,  and he looked up too.  His face held less arousal and more admiration but with the same amount of abject fear.  Now, it was time for the pay-off.  Marie Elena, wondering why no one was listening to her clever anecdote, turned to face her.  There was definitely no arousal, no admiration, and no fear to speak of.  There was, however, loathing, envy, and outright incredulity.  

Marie Elena immediately recognized the cunning use of the LBD, and she knew its power – the gauntlet has been thrown. 

"Sorry I'm late.  I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Hermione purred in her demurest voice.  She moved to the vacant chair directly across from Ron, courtesy of one Captain Ginny Weasley.  Yes, a promotion was in order.

"A bit over dressed for dinner, aren't you, dear?"  Marie Elena did not appreciate being out shone.  'OH, HELL NO.'

"A little, I suppose," Hermione answered with a small titter. "But, I thought since you where here, you would probably want to spend time with Ron alone, so I thought after dinner I would go out into town.  We met some really nice young men the other day by the lake, and I thought I'd look them up.  No use being the fifth wheel." She quickly scanned the room. Harry, having caught on to Hermione's game, all but gave her the thumbs up.  Admiral Ginny Weasley, being a little more subtle as any good soldier should, merely smiled.  'Never let the enemy see you sweat.'  And, Ron…well, Ron….

"You hardly know them," he stated plainly, (Translation: over my dead, rotting, worm ridden body!!!!!)

"I know enough, Ron." Hermione retorted.  "It's just a night out after all.  I don't want to be in the way here." Soft brown eyes locked with worried blue ones.

"You wouldn't be in the way," his voice was getting insistent.

"Ron dear, let her be." Marie Elena had had quite enough. Why, no one commented on her delicious meal since the little…witch entered the room.  "She is an adult and has every right to go out and meet a nice man.  After all, I'm sure there are many eligible, unattached, free, single men dying for a chance to go out with Harriet."

"Hermione," Ron said without looking to Marie Elena.

"Pardon me, Ronnie Darling?" 

He looked at her now. "Her. Name. Is. Hermione."

"Of course it is." Who cares? "Well, anyway, we should all dig in.  The chicken is getting cold."

The air was filled with tension.  They ate in relative silence with Marie Elena prattling on about one thing or another, while Ron stole glances at Hermione.  For her part Hermione, while personally finding the chicken to be dry, was savoring the evening. 

Step Five - Phase 2: Claiming your territory.  

It was time to raise the stakes.  And, if done properly, the stakes would not be the only thing raised that evening.  (Author apologizes for lame joke written in a moment of caffeine withdrawal.  Okay, so maybe Author isn't really sorry.  Maybe Author is actually snickering at her little play on words.  Maybe Author should just go and get that damn cup of coffee.)

Hermione was happily enjoying her salad when she nonchalantly slipped off her shoe and lifted her foot until she could feel Ron's leg with her toes. A quick glance told her she had made contact and said contact was acknowledged and accepted.  Acceptance came in the form of a raised eyebrow and furrowed brow.  'Oh, this was going to be fun,' she thought with sadistic glee.

Painfully, slowly, she reached over and began to rub his ankle with her foot.  The methodic, rhythmic rubbing was enough to lower the questioning eyebrow and relax the confused brow.  Marie Elena's droning became a faint buzzing in their ears as they focused on one another.  Finding that the tauntingly close proximity to bare skin was too much for a girl to take, she slowly pulled down his sock with her toes.  With the soft skin of his leg exposed before her, she went to work.  Small circles at first would quickly become long strokes up and down his shin.  His skin rose to meet hers in gooseflesh and shivers.

She lifted her leg further and leaned in so that she could caress his thighs.  And, yes, they were quite as muscular as they appeared.  A smarmy grin played on his lips as he shifted forward in his seat to give her more access. Inching her foot up his thigh, she relished the way his leg shuddered, urging her to continue. Torturing him at her leisure and watching him love it was a reward in and of itself, but seeing him bite his lip and run his hand through his hair in sexual frustration took on more of an Olympian victory - banners flying, crowd cheering, endorsement deals flooding in. 

Hermione allowed herself a smile as she watched him lift a shaky hand to his water glass and hastily begin to down water in an attempt to keep in control.  Thinking, 'timing is everything' and thanking Merlin for a narrow enough table, she used that precise moment to upgrade the attack, and she shifted her leg slightly so her foot rested itself upon his hardening groin.  This maneuver caused Ron to choke on his water, spitting part of it on Marie Elena – well, that was just an added bonus, really.

"Ron! What's wrong with you?" she shrieked.

"Sorry ….eh…..sorry.  I….I just caught myself in a sneeze while drinking," he sputtered.

"I do wish you would be more careful," she said while wiping her blouse.

She went on for a bit after that but neither Ron nor Hermione heard.  Hermione continued to rub Ron's erection, and Ron had no intention of stopping her.  A red painted toe followed the ridge of his shaft, starting in at the base and slowly tracing it to the very tip. She repeated the movement over and over until she could feel his knees start to shake.  As his eyes rolled to the back of his head,  Hermione decided it was time to stop her assault and finish her dinner.  It would be somewhat difficult to explain why Ron suddenly cried out in ecstasy over chicken and salad, especially Marie Elena's dry chicken and salad (a bit heavy on the dressing in Hermione's opinion.)

The rest of the room seemed oblivious to what had just happened, Hermione was certain;  Marie Elena did not stop to draw breath once in the last fifteen minutes. 

Hermione took a moment to survey the room.  Empress of the World, Ginny Weasley,  winked at her from behind a forkful of salad.  Harry was caught between trying to eat and trying to get a word in edgewise during Marie Elena's current discourse about some sort of Muggle celebrity's New Age eat-only –pomegranates-and-salmon diet.  Hermione then turned to Ron to find him sipping his water again and smiling. No looks of annoyance or anger being aimed at her, no sign of anything other than delight. Just the complete sanctioning of her onslaught.  His acceptance only fueled Hermione's resolve.  He wanted this too.

Hermione paused for a moment as Little Hermione, complete with angel wings and a halo, popped up on her shoulder. Her saccharin voice sang sweetly into Hermione's ears, 'You have already won, Hermione.  It would be easy enough to stop now, to get Ron alone and discuss things like adults. To find a rational way to explain to Marie Elena that you and Ron were meant to be together for over a decade now.  It was destiny, really.  And, though you are truly sorry for any pain you would be causing her, neither you nor Ron could continue to deny your feelings for each other.  Yes, that would be the mature and rational thing to do.'

'But where's the fun in that?' Hermione thought evilly.  With a swish and a flick, Little Hermione was banished back into the bowels of  "Get over yourself," where she belonged.

No, it was time to prepare for Step Five - Phase 3.  Confronting the enemy face to face.  She and Miss Marie Elena would be having a little chat.

  


****


	12. Bottled Retribution

 **Chapter Twelve – Bottled Retribution **

It was in the air.  Hermione could smell it.  The smell of victory; the smell of complete and total triumph. It was crisp and sweet and so very, very close.  She watched those around her, completely detached from the idle chatter of music or celebrity or whatever nonsense they were discussing as dishes were cleared. The conversation continued, as five people adjourned to the living room.  

Ron was uncharacteristically quiet.  He occasionally interjected a word here or there, but mostly he was having a difficult time repressing the smile that was fighting to be released. His lips fighting to remain impassive, fighting the growing excitement, quivering in anticipation …and probably just a little fear. 'Such lovely lips,' Hermione thought, 'so full, and delicious, and such a lovely shade of pink.'  She could taste them: crisp and sweet, and so very, very close.   

Harry was talking about going for a walk, which struck Hermione as odd, considering he had just retuned from being out all day with Ginny.  She gave him a small smile as she realized he was just trying—desperately trying—to get away.  Apparently, he could smell it too, but to him it smelt of dread and pain and oddly enough, singed blonde hair.

'Worry not, dear Harry,' she thought with a tiny bit of wickedness. 'You won't be around for this part of the melee. No one will.'  Witnesses would just make things messy, and Hermione so liked things neat and tidy.

"Excuse me for a moment, won't you?"  she asked shyly, innocently, sweetly.  She nearly curtsied as she got up and left the room with a smile for Harry, a nod for Ginny, and a wink for Ron.  She had a few minor details to take care of, a few preparations she had to make.

She quietly made her way to her bedroom.  A quick locking spell insured privacy as she made her way to her closet.  In the back corner, behind her sandals and a few dozen books brought for some light reading, sat a small, unassuming brown valise. Excited fingers caressed the latch that held her little treasure.  With a flick of her forefinger, the latch came undone and the valise opened, revealing numerous, small vials containing various colored concentrates.  A slow, malicious smile crept across her lips.  Mary Elena had met Hermione the woman - provocative and provoking, sensual and seductive.  Now it was time to introduce her to Hermione the witch - ingenious and inventive, cunning and calculating.  

A little background might be needed here.  Hermione Granger was girl, and as such, had certain concerns about her appearance.  She came to realize a long time ago that she had little patience for the things most girls did to make themselves appealing to others.  That did not mean that she did not care about her looks – quite the contrary actually.  But, she had little time and patience for the procedures most used to achieve these goals.  Hermione was nothing if not a creature of efficiency, and so rather than depend on the more traditional methods of beauty, she found a way around them.

This is where a relationship with a certain Potion's master began.  Well, it actually began two weeks after leaving school, when she woke up from a drunken haze wearing nothing but a Slytherin tie and a sock.  Said Potion's master was sympathetic, as he awoke just minutes before wearing a lacy red thong with matching garters and sporting wolf tattoo on his thigh.  Neither remembered much, and they preferred it that way.  

So, when she approached him some weeks later asking for personal grooming potions, he acquiesced.  He had to.  Drunk as she was, she at least had the presence of mind to take pictures and he, apparently, enjoyed being a model. 

So Hermione Granger, learned to make several different potions: one to keep her skin clear; one to remove the hair on her legs without the fear of razor burn or stubble; one to keep her hair from looking like a haystack. Most witches preferred the more … conventional techniques - those learned when they were very young.  If witches waited until they were qualified to make potions for their beauty needs, Hogwarts would be full of some very hairy, unsightly witches and some very unhappy, frustrated wizards with exceedingly sore wrists.

Beauty potions were difficult for most to master and were not available for sale, as there were restrictions for their use.  But Hermione Granger, Fellow in Advanced Arithmancy,  was more than capable of making them. And as for restrictions…well, killing a Dark Lord made her realize that sometimes you had to go around rules for the greater good. Waking up from a drunken haze wearing nothing but a Slytherin tie and a sock made her realize that there were things others just didn't need to know about.

As a result, Hermione had quite a stockpile of potions ingredients at her disposal. And a lucky thing too:  one should always be prepared.  Absentmindedly, a hand  ran appreciatively down the side of the LBD.  'You have served me well, my friend, but even your powers are not enough here.' She only had a minute to prepare this potion and hopefully,  it would be enough.  Her hands flew over the bottles, picking up vials and replacing them just as quickly. A drop of anise hyssop, a pinch of sorrel, stir, two drops of yarrow, some bindweed, a bit of milfoil,  shake, a little almond extract, a little ginger, a drop of purple trillium, mix, and . . .done.

Perfect.

She grabbed her wand, conjured a pocket in the front of her dress, and slipped the vial inside.  Inconspicuous.  She then picked up a second vial containing a navy blue fluid, already prepared and waiting.  She smirked as she held it in her hand and swirled the  heavy, viscous fluid around. "It's good to be a witch," she said to no one in particular, but  for all the world to hear.

Quickly clearing the room of any trace of the evidence, she took a moment to re-apply her lipstick before heading downstairs.  Harry nearly jumped when she entered the room. 'So nervous, Harry?' she almost asked aloud.  'Poor dear has no idea, does he?' 

She turned to Ron, who gave her a sweet smile; his eyes full of something that gave Hermione butterflies. He looked…happy and excited. She sighed, 'Poor dear has no idea,  does he?'  

Mary Elena, true to form, was ignoring her, and was continuing with her story, something about the socio-economic repercussions of Muggle inter-continental relations to the wizarding community.…that,  or shoes.  Really, when she began talking, all Hermione could hear was buzz, buzz, buzz.

Hermione turned to Ginny —Admiral?  Czarina? Goddess?  What was her current position? Queen Ginny would have to do.  Hermione turned to Queen Ginny and gave her the signal. A wink and nod which meant the eagle has landed and the chickens must flee the coop. (Author's Note – That's classified code talk for "Run away! Run far away!")

Ginny Weasley pick up her cue and went to work.

"Oh my!" she stated with alarm.  "I completely forgot about the trunk."  

Harry almost choked on his drink when she spoke. "The what?" he asked nervously. It had been a while since he was this jumpy.  Oh, where were the good old days when he was simply battling Voldemort for his life time and time again? Evil used to be so much easier to deal with when it wasn't wearing tight black dresses.

"The trunk," Ginny answered with a frustrated sigh. "There is a trunk in the attic full of stuff for Dad that Uncle Edmund wanted him to have.  I was supposed to get and have it ready to floo out tonight, but I completely forgot.  I have to find it and then bring it down.  I can't carry it down myself. Will you two help me?"  She sounded wonderfully vulnerable, decidedly weak, and perfectly frail.  

"Carry it down? Why don't you just use your…" Harry was stopped by the patented Ginny Weasley "Zip-It-Or-I-Will-Damage-Some-Of-Your-More-Favorite-Organs" Glare.  Harry had seen Ron receive that glare on several occasions and though he towered over his younger sister, he never argued.  The little witch could pack quite a punch.  Harry sighed. 'She's been hanging around Hermione too, too much.'

This exchange did not go unnoticed by Ron. He had had Auror training and could smell a plot a mile away.  Ginny wanted them out of the way; she did not throw that glare around lightly.  No, she had the look of a soldier following orders, and Ron had a sneaking suspicion of who was dictating those orders.  Ginny might have been the facilitator, but Hermione was the brains.  She was planning something and knowing Hermione as he did,  he knew it would be creatively cruel and probably quite painful. He looked at Marie Elena's vacuous blue eyes and extremely bored expression, oblivious to it all and felt a bit of remorse, perhaps even a little sympathy. 'Poor dear has no idea, does she?'  

He couldn't.  

He just couldn't.  

He just couldn't stick around for it.  Whatever it was Hermione was planning, he just couldn't watch.  He wanted to be as far away as humanly possible.  "Don't worry, Gin," he spoke slowly, eyes traveling back and forth between Hermione and Marie Elena. "We'll help you get the trunk.  Whatever you need.  Right, Harry?"

Harry was beginning to see what was really going on. e just counh

 If Ron was going along with it, who was he to fight it.  Hermione obviously wanted to be alone with Marie Elena, and he knew better than to get in her way.  Voldemort was a Teletubby compared to Hermione set on a seek-and-destroy mission.  "Yeah, let's go," he swallowed apprehensively as he eyed Hermione.  She was eerily calm and smooth like liquid —no, like lava—and Harry feared Marie Elena was going to burn.  Oh, the humanity!  He gave a little shiver and got up.  "We'll be right back," he offered tentatively.

"Take your time," Hermione stated, never taking her eyes off her nemesis.  

Marie Elena made no offer to assist, just as Hermione suspected. Instead she sat back, examining her nails.

When the room had cleared out, Hermione spoke, "Why don't I get us something to drink?"

"Fine…whatever." She gave Hermione a dismissive flutter with her hand. "Nothing to heavy, dear. Goes right to the hips, but I suppose you know all about that."

Hermione simply smiled as she poured apple cider into two glasses.  A hand slipped down in to a hidden pocket and, very casually, emptied the contents of a vial into one of the glasses.  She licked her lips as she watched the fluid turn a sickly green before turning back to its original hue.  'Oh the wonders of alchemy and wizardry.'

She picked up the glasses and turned to her guest.  "Let's toast to…to Ron and his happiness."

"Of course."  Marie Elena paused to sniff the juice before taking a sip.  Finding it surprising sweet and refreshing, she finished the entire glass as if almost compelled to drink it all. Hermione smiled. It's show time! "Did you enjoy the juice?" she asked.

"Wonderful actually, and I am not usually a fan of cider," she replied, still not bothering to look at Hermione.

"How are you feeling?"  Hermione asked innocently.

"Fine, just…."  She stopped as she felt a peculiar tingling sensation in her hand.  She looked down to see bristling black hair starting to sprout from her knuckles.  "What the hell…?" the banshee gasped.

"Oh my, that's starting quickly.  I thought we'd have more time,"  Hermione pouted.

"More time for what?" she shrieked.  "What did you do to me, you little bitch?"

"Temper, temper, Marie Elena," she tutted.  She leaned in until she and Marie Elena were nose to nose and she smiled from the corner of her mouth. "You must keep calm.  Adrenaline only speeds up the process."

"P-p-process?" she sputtered.

Now there was fear in those vacuous blue eyes, and Hermione drank it in.  "It's slow at first," she began, her voice thick with control and strength.  "Some hair on your knuckles, spots and blemishes on your skin …and then, it escalates ..."

"E-e-escalates?" More Sputtering.

"Oh yes," she drawled. "Soon, your hair will start to kink and frizz.  Your fingernails will turn yellow – to match your teeth, of course.   And then it gets worse."  

"W-w-worse?"  Sputtering accompanied by spittle – now, that's attractive.

"Oh so, so much worse," Hermione answered with just a tinge of sympathy. "The hair under your arms will grow at an alarming rate but not as quickly as the hair on your legs.  Of course, that is only slightly better then your moustache…"

"Moustache?!?" Marie Elena looked faint

"Well, it actually goes nicely with the sideburns."  Hermione watched as the harpy paled and cringed with each symptom.  "By the time the potion's work is complete," she continued, "your face will be colored as if your make-up was done by a clown with a death wish and you will have a rather large red mole protruding from you chin with a long black hair sticking out that will only grow longer the more you cut it." ('It should be a crime to have this much fun at the expense of others,' Hermione thought innocently.  'alas, time to come in for the kill.')  "And then there's the _piece de résistance - when all is said and done, you will be left with a hunchback, lopsided breasts, rancid breath, an enormous cellulose riddled posterior and, of course, the nose you were born with." _

"NO!!!" Marie Elena screamed, quickly placing her now furry hands over her perky proboscis. "Are you mad?" she screeched, her face turning red from the indignation, fear, and  terror that was coursing through her veins along with the potion. "You poisoned me, you twisted, evil…"

Hermione remained immobile, a sweet smile plastered on her otherwise emotionless face.  Her quiet calm terrified Marie Elena more than her description of what was to become of her. "How long does it last?" she finally asked.

The smile grew as she said, "How long will it last? Why, it's permanent, dear."

"What??!?" Now, Marie Elena was shaking.

"Per-ma-nent.  Oh I'm sorry.  Too long a word.  It means it will last forever." She gave her hairy opponent a very toothy grin. "Unless of course, you take this in the next twenty minutes."  Hermione held up the small vial with navy blue fluid."

"Give me that." Marie Elena lunged, rather ungracefully, towards Hermione who simply side-stepped and watched as "Old Hairy Hands" went face first into the wall.  Hermione came up behind her and whispered into her ear, "Really darling, attacking me is no way to coax this antidote from me."

Marie Elena turned with fire and pure hatred in her eyes, "I'll call the authorities," she screeched.

Hermione let out a laugh.  "And tell them what?  That potion is made from all natural ingredients that have already been absorbed into your system. There won't be a single trace of  anything to be found.  It will be your word against mine."  She paused and stared at Marie Elena through her thick lashes.  "In case you forgot, I received the Order of Merlin First Class for aiding in the defeat in the greatest Dark Lord in over a century.  My name has been in newspapers all over the world and text books read by every student taking a N.E.W.T…..What have you done lately?" 

Marie Elena was beginning to see the gravity of her situation.  "What do you want?"

"It's very simple.".  Hermione spoke with clear conviction, all pretense gone. "I want you gone.  I want you to take your things and leave.  And, I don't mean just here. I want you out of Ron's life.  I don't want either of us to see your face ever again."

"That's it!?! " Marie Elena was incensed.  "That's what this is all about!?  Ron!? You poisoned me for _Ron!_?  You really think _he is worth all this?"  Her voice was filled with disgust, and it only incited Hermione further. _

"This is about more than just Ron," she said softly.  "This is about your need to belittle others for the sake of your own ego.  This about your learning to treat people with the dignity and respect they deserve. This is about humility.  And yes, it's also about Ron.  He is worth it.  And if you even have to ask that question, you don't know him at all…and you certainly don't deserve him."

"I don't believe this.  Just because you are not woman enough  to get a man on your own…"

Hermione stopped her with a wand to her throat.  "Let's get something straight.  Getting Ron was not the issue here.  The issue here is teaching you a lesson.  I am more of a woman than you will ever be, besides being more of a witch than you could ever hope to be.  You never even had the common courtesy of pronouncing my name properly." She leaned in. "I bet you'll never forget it now," she hissed, her nose barely an inch from Marie Elena's protruding, spotted one. 

'This witch is out of her mind.' Marie Elena thought, though she carefully hid any hint of her opinion. She was angry but she was not a fool.  Time was quickly slipping away, and she could feel the potion working through her body.  She could feel the spots beginning to form on her face and hair covering her body.  "Fine.  Whatever you want," she conceded.  "Just give me the damn antidote, and let me get the hell out of here."

Hermione gave her a smile with the vial and watched as she downed every last drop.  "A few more symptoms will present themselves while the cure makes its way through your system.  I suggest going someplace where you will not be seen."

Marie Elena muttered something about insane…perverse and …possibly Satan's spawn as she gathered her things and walked out.  Hermione watched her leave and announced quite happily, "Ding dong - the tart is gone." (Author pays homage to Shellyk, Queen of Smutty Goodness, and bows in reverence.  I am not worthy.)

Hermione began to straighten herself out when she realized someone was behind her.

"I thought she'd never leave."

Hermione swung around to find Ron leaning in the doorframe. Oops. "How much did you see?" she asked nervously.  

"More than I ever wanted to," he smiled, and she relaxed. "That was quite a performance."

"Performance?  I don't know what you are talking about," she claimed innocently. 

She was about to walk past him, but he grabbed her from behind and, wrapping his arms around her waist, held her close. "You are a crafty one, aren't you, Ms. Granger," he breathed into her ear. 

She couldn't help but giggle. "You'd be surprised how creative I can be, Mr. Weasley."

He took this moment to pull her hair away from her face and leaning down, placed a bite on her beautifully exposed neck.  "I have a feeling I'm going to like finding out just how creative you can be," he whispered.

She could not giggle again.  Once was bad enough. "Why don't we find a more private spot and I'll show you," she purred.

He practically growled at her suggestion and quickly turned her around to place a covetous kiss on her eager mouth.  Years of pent up desire and need clashed with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy.  They were torn between loving each other and eating each other alive.  Hands explored the places where their minds had traveled a thousand times in the course of their lives; hands needing to touch and grab and feel.

Reluctantly, they broke apart.  He looked into her eyes, glazed over with desire, and at her lips, swollen and smeared with lipstick,  and her hair, flying free from the clasp.  She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  "Let's go," he said in a voice thick with longing.

His arm was still wrapped around her waist as they made their way upstairs.  He looked at her in wonderment and asked, " I know this isn't the best place to ask but I am dying to know -what did you give her?"

Hermione smiled proudly and spoke slowly, "A friend of mine works with your brothers developing potions for their joke shop..."

"Snarky Enterprises?  You know who's behind Snarky Enterprises?"  Ron was shocked.  No one knew who this was.  The twins were sworn to secrecy, and as Snarky Enterprises was making them a fortune, they were more than happy to oblige.  Whoever it was was the genius behind some of Fred and George's more vicious gags. It was  almost as if he really enjoyed torturing people and while making a ton of Galleons in the process.  

"He developed the Impotus Elixir," she continued. "The one that renders men impotent for  three days."

Ron's lip started to twitch.  Oh, he remembered that one.  Fred and George used him for a guinea pig, and that gag worked particularly well.

"They found it had a particularly nasty effect on women who took it.  Where it made men unable to fuck, it made women completely…unfuckable.  Granted, the effects are temporary, but they are….dramatic, to say the least."

"So all those things will actually happen to her?" 

"Oh, yes, but she'll be fine in a hour.  Just enough time to really make an impression," she smirked.

"Hermione Granger, you are positively evil, " he said as he pulled her closer.  "Remind me to stay on your good side."

"You'd better, Ron Weasley.  I am not one to be trifled with."

As they got to the door of his room , he paused and turned to her.  Very gently he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.  No fevered pitch, no frantic hands.  It was slow and deep and long and wet and soft.  He pulled away and ran a thumb over her moist pink lips.

"That's a good start," she said with a shiver.

"It's only a start, " he said.  "I have a lot of lost time to make up for."  Here, she giggled.  She really couldn't hold it back this time.  And, for his part, he giggled too. 

They entered the room and as he began to close the door he asked,  "There's just one thing I don't understand. If she'll be fine in an hour, what was that second potion you gave her?"

"That? Oh nothing," she confessed.  "Just a simple, but highly effective, laxative." And the door clicked shut.

_Author's note: "the nose you were born with" line inspired by Spaceballs: the movie._


	13. You Know

**Chapter Thirteen – You Know….**

"Are they still at it?  How long has it been?" Harry closed the book on his lap. 

"About four hours, I think," Ginny replied while rubbing her eyes.  It was very late in the evening, or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it.  They had had a very, very long day, one that felt like it was months in the making. And, though they were both exhausted, neither wanted to venture upstairs.  They had done so earlier in the evening and the experience would leave them disturbed for some time.  More than a decade's worth of pent-up lust and frustration being released at one time was tantamount to an eruption of Krakatoa…during an earthquake…in hurricane season.  At least that's what it sounded like.

"Four hours?" Harry responded disbelievingly. "Thank Merlin for Silencing Charms."

"No kidding, though I wish we would have thought of it sooner.  Two hours of 'Ron! Yes, Ron!, 'Ron, you're so big, Ron', and 'Harder, Ron! , Harder!' was a little more than I ever needed to hear. I'll be having nightmares for weeks.  And what were the references to hairy moles and laxatives all about?"

"You got me on that one. They kept cackling like a pair of banshees, too.  Seems an inappropriate time for laughter, don't you think?  Anyway, I pretty much tried to block out everything after, 'Who's your Daddy?' I mean, really.  Who says that?"

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger as she shook her head.  "And why," she moaned, "would you fix a bed only to break it again and again?  Just leave the damn mattress on the floor and hope you don't break through the ceiling of the room below you, injuring the innocent."

Harry shook his head in reply.  He managed to survive a childhood spent cramped in a cupboard with an aunt who belittled him, an uncle who berated him, and a whale of a cousin who battered him.  And those were the days they acknowledged him at all.  His teen years were spent fighting for his life against dark lords, dark wizards, and dark creatures, all hell-bent on bringing about his untimely demise.  The irony of it all was that this, the coupling of his best friends, which he fought vehemently for, would be the thing that drove him to seek psychiatric help.  

And he didn't even want to speculate about what Hermione did to Marie Elena.  It was enough that he would occasionally pick up a reference to her and hear a sinister snickering that sent shivers down his back in a way Voldemort never did.  He didn't want to know, and it would be better that way.  Should he ever be asked to testify, he wouldn't have to perjure himself.  Some time ago, while helping Hermione during one of her drunken binges, he remembered stumbling onto some photographs in her apartment.  Some very…interesting shots taken just after the war ended and after a particular raucous party that he remembered little of – save waking up between the Patil twins, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers with "Spew You" scrawled across the front.  What was happening upstairs reminded him of what he thought when he saw those pictures : there are some things one didn't ever need to know about.  Ever.

Ginny sighed.  "Well," she began, "we did it.  We wanted them to get together, and they did.  In a most explosive fashion, I might add.  Now I wonder if we will ever get them apart.  They may remain joined at the hip permanently."  Ginny laughed but Harry only gave her a small smile. Ginny watched any joy that was on his face quickly leave. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked. 

"Nothing really.  Just being selfish again." Harry began running his fingers along the spine of the book he held, avoiding any eye contact with her.

His demeanor concerned Ginny. "What do you mean?"

He gave a shrug.  "It's just like I thought it would be.  Don't get me wrong; I am thrilled that they are together, they both deserve to be happy and all, but this is something that I can never truly be a part of.  It is special and private…and… and theirs."  He looked down.  "I just hope they still remember to occasionally find time for me."

Ginny looked at him. She really looked at him.  It dawned on her that she really did not know him at all.  The image of Harry Potter she had in her head did not mesh with the man sitting in front of her.  The confident super hero with the easy smile and the brave heart was replaced by this shy, lonely man who was afraid, really afraid, of being alone.  But it made sense, didn't it?  He never had any real family other than the Dursleys.  The people he loved the most just discovered each other, and they would be exploring that territory for a long, long time.  If the sounds coming out of the upstairs where any indication, sounds that even a strong Silencing Charm could not mute completely, then Harry looked to be alone for a long while.  It was that fear of being alone that prevented him from helping Ron and Hermione years ago.  And it was the guilt he felt at his selfishness that made him fight so hard now.  Now that battle was won and he was left picking up the pieces… again, just as he did after the last big battle of his life. How much was one man supposed to take? 

And what about her?  What did she really want?  Who was she?  Wasn't she just as alone as Harry at the moment?  And was she any better equipped to handle it?  Hermione had found a truth about herself that day.   And in that truth she found the determination and the will to get the one thing she wanted more than anything else.  Ginny was facing a truth, too.  After a five year relationship that was nothing but a shill for the life she really wanted, she had no idea what it would really take for her to be happy.  In all candor, she had no idea if she ever was happy to begin with.  She knew she was unhappy in this moment. She knew she was lonely. She knew how to fix it.  But did she have the courage?

She looked at Harry again, at his quiet fear and isolation, at the sacrifice of his own happiness for those he loved and the rest of the world.  For a second she caught a glimpse of a boy asking timidly how to get to platform nine and three-quarters. She caught a glimpse of the boy she loved because of his name, before she really knew him. That image faded quickly, replaced by that of a man, a man she was only truly and honestly seeing for the first time.  A man named Harry who loved his friends and would do anything for them.  A man who was unhappy.  A man who was lonely.

So she was faced with a decision. She could try to be the person she really thought she wanted to be and go for the things she wanted more than anything else in the world, or she could just continue down the path her life was traveling, safe, uncomplicated, and uninhibited by trivial things like love and passion.

Well, sometimes you just have to say 'what the hell!' 

"Harry," she began in her sweetest voice.  "Harry, you looked stressed and terribly tired.  Would you like for me to rub your shoulders?"

He contemplated the offer, it was quite possibly the best one he'd had in a long time.  "That would be amazing.  You don't mind?"

"I offered, didn't I?"  Ginny sat behind him on the sofa and began kneading her thumbs along the ridge of his shoulders. She leaned forward slightly while applying pressure to the base of his neck in small, firm circles.   "You know," she began, her voice all sugar and velvet, "This would be a lot easier if you took your shirt off."

Oh no.  "My….what….what was that?"

"Your shirt, Harry.  If you take it off, I could do a much better job, " she replied innocently.

Oh dear.  "You're doing fine now." 

"You're not nervous, are you?  It's only a shirt after all.  And you are so tense.  I could get at your muscles better.  I've done this a hundred times.  It will be fine…really."

Oh well.  "Oh….ok…..sure."  Harry swallowed hard. He pulled his shirt over his head.  He could feel the muscles in his neck spasm while he waited.  This was so wrong. Ginny continued her treatment and, as her warm hands touched his tight neck, he released the breathe he was holding and let his head fall forward.  It was still wrong, but now was not the time to dwell on such pettiness.  Her hands began to knead their way down this back, pushing and pulling on his muscles and shoulders blades.  She pushed harder and harder until she was rewarded with a light moan. 

This was progressing quite nicely.

"You know," she began, her voice all honey and silk, "this would be a lot easier…and more comfortable, if you were to lie down."

'Yes, yes it would,' he thought gratefully.  Harry did not fight this merciful suggestion as he did not know how much longer he could sit up with Ginny's hands on his bare skin. Lying down would help to cover up a very embarrassing problem that was developing of its own volition.  Ginny got up and moved the small table in front of the sofa, while Harry watched in groggy recognition.  She laid down a worn but thick blue afghan on the floor and motioned for Harry to join her.  "We really should enjoy this fire that we spent all day gathering wood for," she smiled sweetly.

Harry laid down on the floor and Ginny sat next to him using this opportunity to rub rigorously along his spine, down to the small of his back.  With each moan she would rub just a little harder until he she felt him begin to relax.  Sometimes her hand would rub firmly into his muscles and occasionally she would allow a more gentle caress.  Once, she very lightly allowed her fingertips to skim the length of his back, a subtle maneuver that was greeted with shivers and gooseflesh.

"You know," she began again, her voice all liquid fire, "this position is a little uncomfortable for me.  I think I could do a much better job if I straddled your back.  You wouldn't mind, would you?" She smirked as she felt him stiffen at her words. 'This was progressing quite nicely, indeed.' 

'Would I mind, she asks,' Harry thought through his stupor. 'Now if that isn't a loaded question.  No Ginny,  why should I mind?  I am about to combust from your hands roaming up and down my naked skin, while impure thoughts run through my mind like the bulls of Pamplona.  I have an erection digging into the floor, and though it is not necessarily the worst sensation I have ever felt, I am sure I could think of some better places for it.  And now you are asking me if I would mind if you bestride your nubile, tight, incredibly voluptuous body on top of me while I squirm underneath trying to retain my dignity and fortitude.'  He paused momentarily to mentally slap himself silly. 'Well, actually, no, I wouldn't mind.  Actually, I think that would be a smashing idea.'

When he was finally able to verbalize again, he stammered, "That..that..that would….be….ah…fine….fine."  Ginny enjoyed the tremble in his voice as he gave her permission.  In one very fluid motion, she got up and gently but firmly planted herself on Harry's backside, placing her thighs on either side of his hips.  She now began to massage his back with her entire hand, fingers extended and palms flat until she had touched every inch of the back. She kneaded small circles into his muscles  with the base of her palms.  As she leaned forward to put more pressure on his back she deliberately ground her hips into him in the same rhythmic motion.

A wicked glint came into her eyes as she watched him biting his lip trying to stay calm, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.  He made to speak, but seemed to have difficulty finding his voice.  "You know,  Ginny," he began, his voice all jelly and shivers, "I think I'm relaxed enough."

"Oh, don't be silly Harry," she replied in a low, sultry voice.  "You seem to be getting tenser and tenser by the moment.  I don't think you've relaxed at all."  Ginny sat up and began to unbutton her shirt.

"No, really, if I were anymore relaxed, I'd be dead."  Or, at the very least in a very comfortable coma.

"No, no Harry," she said softly, seductively, as she removed her blouse entirely.  "I think we need to come up with a better way of relaxing you.  Any ideas, Harry? Can you think of anything that would relax you?"  Ginny proceeded to unclasp her bra and slid it off her body.

"Nothing comes to mind at the moment," he squeaked

"You know…I think I have an idea."  Ginny leaned forward draping Harry's bare back with her bare front.  He moaned loudly at the contact, shocked at the heat her body emanated.  She whispered in his ear, "What do you think, Harry?  Do you think I can relax you?" His hesitation in answering her led to a languorous tongue running along his ear.  

"You and I seem to have very different definitions of what it takes to relax someone," he sputtered.

"Oh, I promise, Harry, when I am done with you, you will barely be able to move," she purred.

You might say Harry found himself in a bit of a conundrum.  On the one hand he had a half naked, beautiful, sinuous redhead rubbing her body on his, promising him things his better fantasies could not deliver on. On the other hand, or should he say fist, there was said-redhead's brother.  With the combination of Ron's strength and temper Harry know he would be in for a world of hurt if he touched Ginny, whether she instigated it or not.  Then again, this very same brother was upstairs not necessarily being a proper role model.  It was really his fault anyway.  He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for his wanting to help Ron.  And wasn't Ron enjoying the fruits of his labor right now in about twenty different positions if Harry's estimation was correct?  So in the end, anything that happened would be Ron's fault…right? 

Good enough.

"You know, Ginny," he began, his voice all sugar and satin.  "I think you're onto something."


	14. Now What?

**Well, this is it. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. I want to thank everyone who sent reviews and encouragement.**

**A special thanks to Diana for reading this chapter and saying, "Good, now make it funny." Hope I succeeded.**

**There is a special gift that end for the loyal and obsessed. Let me know what you think.**

**  
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**Chapter Fourteen – Now What?**

Hermione woke up.  She was pretty sure she was awake.  Her eyes were open, but she couldn't see anything as she was emphatically entwined in floral cotton bed sheets.  She tried to move but found that task impossible for a pair of surprisingly strong arms held her in a vice grip.

She suddenly remembered where she was and to whom those muscular arms belonged. A distinct soreness in her lower body reminded of  why she was there.

Images flashed before her: Ron looking into her eyes when he first entered her. Ron writhing underneath her when she took the initiative. Ron disappearing below the sheets with a smile on his face and a promise he delivered on over and over again. On the bed.  On the floor.  Against the wall. Twice.  A shower or two. And even that one time with the levitation spell.  They would have to try that one again. 

She remembered, in detail, the things she said when she climaxed; surprised she even knew the names of that many deities.  Mostly, she remembered Ron. The look in his eyes when he peaked. The way he bit his lip to keep from screaming, and the time he didn't and let his passion fly.  Ron, it seemed, was also a very religious man.

And that one time they came together, a wave that enveloped them both so completely, she really did not know where she ended and he began.  At peace and sated, she felt complete for the first time in her life.  A knowing smile curled her lips as she remembered the look on his face when she took his length in her mouth and his words of passion and longing throughout the night.  They did a lot last night.  They said a lot.

And, they didn't say anything at all.  

In all the hours they had sex, he never said "I love you." Not once.  She almost did, several times in fact.  Perhaps out of fear. Even more so, uncertainty. And as much as she hated to admit it - insecurity.  Dealing with Marie Elena was easy. Dealing with Ron was an entirely different matter.  She loved him and in the end hate was an easy emotion to confront.  Love was nearly impossible.

She wanted to say it – to proclaim it to the world! Images of her running through fields of  wild flowers with nondescript birds chirping in the background sprang to mind. It was quickly pushed aside by the part of her brain that was nauseated by the romance novel quality of it all.  Not that she read those things. Or knew that much about them, really.  It wasn't like they were hidden under a floorboard in her bedroom. In a box marked "Feminine Products." Or like she would read them in candlelight… with a box of chocolates, a glass of wine and tissues at the ready on her night stand. 

She sighed.  She would have to remember flog herself later with a copy of something by Jane Austin.

As Ron's arms tightened around her she was brought crashing back to the reality of her current situation.  Something in her told her she needed to hear him say it first.  She needed to know it was more than just sex for him because what had transpired meant everything to her.  Anything less would destroy her.  The more she thought of it, the more the insecurities grew; and suddenly, the arms that held her through the night were now suffocating her.  She needed to get out of bed.

As gently as she could, she pried his arms off and quietly slipped out of bed.  She grabbed a night shirt from her dresser and made to leave the room.  After only a few steps a muffled, "Where are you going?" came out of the tangled mess of floral cotton bed sheets.

"I needed to get up. I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you.  Go back to sleep."

Ron's adorably disheveled head poked out of the bedding.  "Wait. I'll get up too."

"There's no need, really.  You look tired.  I'll just go down stairs," she stammered.

"Damn it! Stop!"  Ron managed to extricate himself and sit up on the bed, the sheets barely covering his nakedness. "Why are you running away again?"

"I just needed to get up.  And what do you mean 'again' ?"

He watched as her brow settled into that 'who-do-you-think-you're-talking-to- you-Quidditch-playing-chocolate-frog-stealing-git' stance she usually adopted when they argued.  She had a way of making him feel like a complete idiot with nothing more than a furrowed brow, a sneer on her  lips, and tightly crossed arms over her chest.  Her lovely chest, currently encased in his old Chudley Cannons T-shirt which seemed to frame it perfectly…

 'Focus, Ron. Focus.' 

This time her face was still flushed from the previous night's festivities.  Her hair waved about, wild around her face; her eyes, fierce.  Those couldn't be the same eyes that had looked at him mischievously as she disappeared under the sheets and…

'Dammit!  Focus!'

She was doing it again.  Confusing him with her eyes…and her hair…her scent.  Everything about her filled his senses until they seemed ready to explode.  Distracting him until she could make her getaway. No. Not this time, Hermione.  The stakes are too high.  And suddenly, he found his voice. "When Marie Elena came, you wouldn't talk to me.  You went in your room and told me to go away."

"I did no such thing."

"Like hell, you didn't.  You told me, and I quote, 'Don't say anything.'  'I understand.  'Things got carried away and now _she's here and anyway, it doesn't matter.' 'None of it matters, just go down stairs, I'll be fine.'  You pushed me away without letting me say anything."_

Hermione refused to cry. Not now.  Not after all this. But he was not going to blame this on her.  "And what would you have said, Ron?  Tell me. Tell me you would have said anything different than what I said."

Ron stood up and wrapped the sheet around his waist. "I would have said I did not get carried away.  That it did matter.  That it mattered to me more than anything else in my life.  I would have said that I loved you from the moment I saw you on the train twelve years ago and have spent every day since convincing myself that one day  I would show you as much.  I would have said that Marie Elena could go to hell and I was more than willing to drive her there myself because she could never, would never, be half the woman you are." 

Hermione held onto the chair next to her in an attempt to steady herself. She suddenly felt very foolish. "Sounds like I should have let you talk."

"Yes, you should have."  Ron turned to find his pants, which were currently wrapped around her copy of _Hogwarts: a History_. As he put them on, he made a mental note to ask her how that happened.  He continued to talk.  "There's a lot of things I should have said then and last night as well.  We sort of rushed into things, and I am sorry.  I got the impression that we were on the same page, but I guess not."  He stopped and his shoulders dropped slightly as he gave her a small smile.  "I should have known better; you always did read faster than me."

"Ron…"

"No, Hermione.  I have been waiting a long time to say some things to you, and if I don't do it now, I never will."

Hermione quietly sat down on the chair as Ron spoke.  

"A lot went on while we where at school and that didn't leave a lot of room for courting.  When you are trying to keep your friends and family alive, some things need to get put aside for a while.  Voldemort was not much of  romantic.  Then, you went to France and I thought it was a perfect chance for us both to get our lives in order. I thought we could try later.  But when you came back,  Hermione, you weren't the person you were when you left.  You were more confident and charismatic and, if at all possible, more brilliant.  You moved with a class of people that I could never be a part of.  It was then that I realized that if we did try to be anything more than friends, it wouldn't work because you would get bored with me.

"So I did the only thing I could think to do.  I moved on.  I tried to find a life for myself and leave you to yours.  But that plan had one major flaw.  I was madly and hopelessly in love with you. I spent every date comparing them to you and found they all came up short."  

Hermione stared at him in disbelief as a vision of Ron's past girlfriends paraded before her like some sort merciless beauty pageant.  She noted that his voice was determined, but his eyes held the same vulnerability he showed when he stood his ground against  a menacing queen on a life-sized chessboard so many years before. And then, like lightning out of the blue, it struck her.  That's when it happened.  That's when she fell in love with him.  When she saw the courage and the fear and which one won out.  Which one always won out.  It occurred to her that he was still talking.  

"I was looking for something to make me forget you,  but that would never work.  Harry told me I was trying to turn every girl into you, and he was right.  I was.  Last night was the answer to a prayer, Hermione.  It was everything I ever wanted in the world.  And if that is all that I can have, then it will be enough.  But it can't be one sided.  If you don't feel the same, that's fine. But it can't just be about sex.  I know it doesn't show, but I am not that strong.  If I have to, I can move on….again."

His blue eyes looked earnestly into hers, waiting for the answer to a question they did not want to ask.

Yes, Hermione felt very foolish. Downright stupid.  He laid his heart out in a way she had been afraid to for more years than she cared to admit. All the emotions she had been fighting, all the insecurities that plagued her, plagued him as well.  Two people feeling the same things and never talking about it. For years.  This was ridiculous. This had to stop.

"Ron, " she said softly.

"What?"

 "You were right about me.  I do have a tendency to run away.  I ran away after Hogwarts because I needed to find some normalcy in the world. I needed to clear my head and immersing myself in my books seemed like the best way.  But I was wrong.  What I should have done was talk to you.  I should have told you that I loved you instead of waiting for the right time."  No, she wasn't as strong as she liked to let on either, and she also realized she wasn't nearly as smart as she liked to believe. 

"My problem is, and has always been, that I am a coward, a trait I have only recently admitted.  I was so afraid you would reject me yesterday that I did push you away.  I thought it was what you wanted.  And I should have told you.  I also should have told you that last night was something that I had dreamed about for years and that was no one else in the world who means to me what you did.  But I was scared, Ron.  I still am." 

Ron had never seen Hermione afraid of anything.  Angry and concerned, sure.  Mostly for him and Harry and whatever scheme they were cooking up, but not genuinely scared.  Hermione didn't notice the way he was looking at her as she continued to speak.  

"I'm scared because I love you in a way I never thought I was capable of feeling. I am afraid because I am placing my heart your hands and you could destroy it if you choose to.  Then again, if I don't give you the chance, then I'll destroy it  myself anyway." 

Then, she looked directly into his eyes and stated clearly:  "I need you, Ron, I always have. And if you think we can make it work, I would really like to try."

Ron walked over to her and placed his hands on her chin and pulled her face towards his.  " I love you, Hermione Granger, and I plan on spending the rest of my life showing you how much."

He gently kissed her lips and wrapped his arms around her.  Pulling her towards him as if they shared one body.  She felt the heat of the last night swell up again within her. She slowly coaxed his mouth open with her tongue and began to taste him in earnest.  Her fingers ran through his hair while his hands ran up and down her body.

So soft, so pure, so perfect.  She was everything the others weren't; she was Hermione and she was his.  They broke apart reluctantly.  He held her close, resting his head on hers. After a while he spoke.  "Are you ready to face the world together?"

She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled at his words.  'Together' never sounded so sweet.  "I think so."

He gave her one more squeeze. "Let's go downstairs."  

His arms were still around her waist when they entered the living room.  To their surprise, they found Harry and Ginny on the floor in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket.  Both were asleep and smiling and seemingly naked.

"Well, I'll be."  Hermione was stunned.  "We did it. We really did it.  That was easier than I thought."

"We are good, aren't we?" Ron was really pleased with himself.  "I bet they never even knew what hit them." He sighed. "They do look perfect together, don't they? "

"You know, we still have a couple of days.  Maybe we should go and leave them here alone."

"We could, I suppose, but I like the idea of having you in the country for a little longer. Besides, they're both wizards.  I'm sure they know how to use a simple Silencing Charm."

They continued into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Harry turned to Ginny.  "Do you suppose they were trying to set us up?"

"Sounds like it, doesn't it."

"They do good work."

"I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Should we get up and join them?"

Ginny looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head - a second head with a dodgy rash, some missing teeth, and a hairy mole on the end of a hawk-like nose..  "Are you mad?  This is Hermione and Ron we are talking about. They have just caught us naked and curled up together on the floor. Can you imagine the interrogation we are in for? And you want to walk into that  willingly? Did you donate your brain to the war effort or something?"

Harry stopped to consider her accurate, if not slightly malicious, assessment of their current predicament.  Firstly, his brain was in tact, thank you very much.  Really, as if he would donate it.  He was generous but be real….Now, where was he? Oh yes.   Ron.  Hermione.  Evil Hermione.  Evil Hermione now joined by Ron, everyone's favorite accomplice. Oh dear.  We are in trouble.

Ron was bad enough.  Harry was smaller and faster.  At the very least he could out run Ron. Hermione on the other hand was not someone to be trifled with. She had a mean streak in her.  She made Lucius Malfoy cry.   For Merlin's sake!  He was ready to admit to personally sinking the Titanic  just to get away from her.  The idea of voluntarily entering the line of fire was not something he wanted to consider.  Instead he considered the red head currently nibbling on his neck.

"Ginny."  She ran her tongue on his collar bone.

"Ginny!"  She took a nipple in her mouth.

"GINNY!"  She looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"What? You seemed to like that last night."

"Yes …well….that is besides the point, really. Now is not the time.  Your brother is in the next room, and I think we need to figure out what we're going to say to him about us."

Ginny looked at him and smiled an evil smile that would have put Voldemort himself to shame.  "We tell him that we know he likes to be spanked.  That he wanted Hermione to call him 'Conan' on more than one occasion.  And that we are going to have a hard time forgetting his cry of 'Ride me like a Firebolt!'  We let him know that we would be more than willing to share these tasty morsels of information with any one with half an ear, including my mother who can still do his laundry and box his ears at the same time."  She paused to run a finger up and down Harry's chest. "We will also add if he doesn't leave us alone, he will have a difficult time getting Hermione alone once we sic the twins on him."

Harry tried to speak but his entire consciousness was focused on the lingering finger drawing figure eights on his torso. "Do you think they would help us out?" he squeaked.

"Oh Harry.  Dear Harry.  Dear, sweet, naïve Harry.  Haven't you ever noticed that I somehow manage to escape their pranks and concoctions and abnormal creations.  Please. I have enough dirt on those two to create my own personal island.  They will be more than willing to…cooperate."  

Harry suddenly got the feeling he was in for a bit more than he bargained for when he fell in love with Ginny Weasley.  But there was a lot he was willing to overlook for a girl who could bend like a pretzel.  

But even before he knew she could lick her own elbows, he was entranced by her: by eyes that always seem to be laughing and a smile that made him feel like a boy long after he gave up boyish things.

"Ginny."  His voice, soft and serious, made her grin disappear.  

"What?" she asked apprehensively.

"I love you," he said simply.

Ginny suddenly looked uncomfortable.  "Harry.  You don't have to say that."

"No, I don't have to, but I need to.  It's time, don't you think?  Time for  me to do something for myself and not the world. Not The-Boy-Who-Lived, just a boy named Harry.  A boy named Harry in love with a girl named Ginny." 

Ginny had a hard time finding the right words. "Harry, I don't know what to say.  I've never loved anyone but you. And I tried Harry.  I really tried."

"This is all new to me, " he said in quiet amazement.  He realized he had never told anyone that he loved them in a romantic way.  Perhaps in a 'we-are-going-to-die-a-painful-and-somewhat-creative-death-tomorrow-so-we-might-as-well-say-it-now' sort of way.

"I guess it is to me too."  Ginny had said it before, but in a 'will-it-get-you–off-my-back–so-I-could-get-some-sleep' sort of way, not really in an amorous one.

Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.  They were as warm and soft as they appeared.  A roving tongue, sinewy and wet, pushed its way into his mouth and he moaned his appreciation for her initiative.  His hands slid along the curve of her back on onto her backside where they fit perfectly as they pulled her towards him.  He was about to do something he was sure was illegal in many parts of the world when an annoyed voice, not belong to him or his paramour, rang out:  "Oh, for the love of Dumbledore! Could you two cut that out?  I am trying to eat breakfast in here."

Harry groaned and Ginny giggled.  The real world was calling.   And for once, Harry was ready to answer.  "Lighten up, Conan.  We'll be in there when we're good and ready."

Hermione's laugh could barely be heard over the shattering of the cup Ron had just dropped. His cursing indicted said cup was full of scalding tea that splashed on one of his more sensitive areas.  There was a decree from Hermione that she could make it all better and some muffled voices and what sounded remarkably like a canister of whipped cream being emptied.  Then, it was stunningly quiet.

"They finally learned how to use a Silencing Spell.  Well, bully for them,"  Harry  quipped before turning to Ginny.  "Now where were we?"  And Ginny quickly reminded him.

**Epilogue – **

Dear Colin,

I want to begin by saying I am so sorry for the trouble my brothers have caused.  Honestly, I had no idea Taupin Feathers could be used for that.  Hermione assured me the effects are temporary, and _things_ should function normally very soon.  

That being said – 

I truly hope you and Amanda find happiness together.  You deserve it.  I understand why things turned out the way they did.  You and I weren't working out; at least one of us had the courage to say so.  Suffice it to say,  we were both looking for something more and found it somewhere else.  

I'm not going to ask if we could still be friends, however.  I understand your reasons and know that in the end, it all worked out for the best. But that doesn't mean that I ever want to see your face again.  Frankly, the only reason I am sending this letter is because I wanted to return your things (See the miniaturized package attached to Florence's other leg) and to get back my things.  All of them, including the Muggle music and my lingerie.  And I know you have them, don't deny it.  What my brothers did to you will be nothing compared to what I will do to you if I don't get every single item back.  

Remember, I took pictures.

_That_ being said – 

Though there will be formal announcements in The Daily Prophet I wanted to be the one to tell you: Ron and Hermione are getting married in the spring.  Ron proposed to Hermione in the Library at Hogwarts.  He said he figured being in the company of all those books probably put her in a good mood and assured him a positive response.  It was actually romantic, in a Ron-sort of way.

Oh, and by the way, Harry and I are dating.  No plans for a wedding here.  I have had enough wedding planning to last me a lifetime, so we are taking it slowly.   We will be moving in together next month.

Take care of yourself and good luck with everything – really.

And as a friendly warning, should you get a letter saying that "You might already be a winner," throw it out immediately.  Don't ask.

Sincerely, 

Ginny

**_Finis_**

**Author's Notes - I have already been asked by several people for a sequel and I am contemplating one, but it won't be until after the release of Book Five. Here is a snippet of what you can expect.**

She sat at their table wearing dark sunglasses and nervously wringing her napkin. The waiter strode over, "Can I get you something to drink? We have a wonderful cider that…."

"No!" she shrieked. "No cider. Never cider. Anything but cider."

"Okay," he replied. "How about some tea? Might I suggest decaffeinated?"

"Fine." She continued her strangulation of the linen napkin. The waiter turner to her dinner companion. "And you, sir?"

"Amir's Sparkling Spring Water with three ice cubes and a twist of lemon. That's a twist… not a piece, or a chunk, or a slice…a twist. Think you can manage that?"

"Of course, sir," he smiled graciously and walked away muttering under his breath precisely what said patron could do with his twist and suggesting several different options for putting it there.

"Why are we here?" the nervous lady asked her smarmy escort.

"Just a friendly dinner," he replied. "I've heard a lot about you and an unfortunate incident that occurred not to long ago-"

"What did you hear?" Her left eye started to twitch.

"It doesn't matter," he replied silkily. "All that matters is you seem to me to be the sort of person who shouldn't be treated so poorly. Someone of your noticeable breeding and impeccable social standing deserves some respect.  It seems to me you deserve…no, you should demand satisfaction."

She narrowed her still twitching eyes. "What's it to you?"

He gave her the crooked smile that always endeared him to the fairer sex. "I'm the same way you see. I demand satisfaction -- I demand many things -- and I usually get them. I think we could help each other."

He was rather handsome, but the last handsome guy she fell for was more trouble then he was worth. "Why?" she asked suspiciously, warily.

"Because there is something I want and the person who has it will not give it up easily …unless I make things rather uncomfortable for him."

"And how does this involve me?"

"We can discuss the how later. No need to reveal too much now. This is a simple dinner, after all." He cocked his head to the side, making him look so young and innocent.

As much as she liked young and innocent…"Why should I trust you? I don't even know you."

He leaned in. "I think you know enough. You hate some people. I hate some people. And together, we can make things rather unpleasant for them."

She smiled then, and he smiled back.

"You are a very convincing man, Mr.…?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

**Oh, Dear.**


End file.
